Like Lambs Led

10 Bent Sunflowers

It shakes the memory of Mercy's panic-stricken face away.

The floor is cold. Even through socks, the chill is jarring. The rumble in my stomach reminds me I haven't eaten since Mom's rubbery eggs this morning.

Shivering, I feel around dusky, blue shadows for the light switch, smashing my hip against the wing-backed chair in the foyer.

Through the peephole, Mom is wrapped in a thin blanket, her knees buckling as Colt Colby supports her under one arm. He uses his free hand to bang his fist against the screen door.

I asked you to bring her home, Mercy.

What the hell is he doing here?

I unlatch the front door and unlock the screen, opening it with a squeaky hiss.

Wet wind drives leaves across the covered porch while the night stretches behind them. A Sheriff's car is pulled into the driveway, its high-beams illuminating us like we're on stage.

"Can I bring her inside?" Colt asks, averting his eyes. He hoists Mom up with a grunt.

Something about seeing him cradle her unsettles me.

"Mom, you okay?" She's almost limp when I grab her from his grasp.

"Hi, schweetie." Her words are muddy like her mouth's filled with honey. Like she's on something.

So here I am again. Wrestling with Mom. I slip and crash us against the doorframe.

"Don't hurt yourself." Colt leans forward to catch us, but I slap his hands away.

"Don't touch me!"

Why is the sheriff sitting in the car and watching? Why is Colt Colby on my porch? A flash of red fury. How dare he bring my mother home like this?

I stand Mom upright, almost losing my step again. After guiding her to the chair in the foyer, I gently rest her head against the floral-patterned wallpaper.

"Wait right here," I whisper.

"I wanna go to bed, Mercy," she slurs, her eyes as heavy as her head.

I blink.

Whatever drugs she's on haven't wiped the ghost of Mercy away.

"I'll be right back, Momma."

Colt is at the threshold where I left him, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his red Supreme hoodie. The wind howls. But the porch is all dark and shadows now; the sheriff's car is no longer in the driveway.

Though the wind bites me, I don't waste any time. "Where was she? What did you do to her?"

His face flushes as red as his hoodie. Perfect, golden brows furrow. His lips are full and pink. To my annoyance, I wonder what they feel like.

"My dad took your mama to a hospital and called my mom. She's a doctor," he explains. "They only gave her something to calm her down. Sheriff McCay brought her home in his car, and my daddy told me to meet him here and check on you."

"I don't need you checking on me." I ball my fists, squinting my eyes over his shoulder. "Where did the cop go?"

Colt attempts a lop-sided grin, gesturing to a silver Range Rover parked at the curb. How did I miss that?

"I told him he could head on home. I'm a big boy. I can take it from here."

I want to tell him to stop smiling at me because I can't tell if it's sweet or creepy. Instead, I ask, "Where is her shirt? It's very valuable."

"What shirt?"

"The shirt your dad took her away in."

"I don't know nothing about any of that. I'm just doing what my daddy said to do."

A wet leaf sticks to the cuff of Colt's jeans. He scrapes it off with the toe of one his red-and-white Jordans, his expression softening.

"Are you doing alright?" He asks, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes, the ones that remind me of That Awful Thing, take in my wild hair and shaking hands. But he doesn't leer like Ethan did. There's a tenderness in his gaze.

He's cute. And he knows it. But I'm not as easily charmed as these countrified bitches around here.

"Don't ever come by here again," I warn, backing inside the house.

"Wait! Before you slam that screen in my face," Colt holds his hands up in surrender. Shivering in the wind, he suddenly looks small. Demure even. Maybe that's why I let him say the next part.

"I picked up some burgers from Silver's. For you and your momma. I got myself one too. I know you've had a hell of a day, but I can show you that not everyone in Pachuck is a psycho. I'm starved. We can eat together. That is, if you're hungry."