Chapter 39

“What the hell got into you?” Alan mutters, collecting the boy’s things as he moves down the hall. The jeans are damp, too. So what, he spilled his drink and just stripped out of his clothes right here? Didn’t bother to clean up? To no one in particular, Alan mumbles, “He knows better than to pull this shit.”

The bike isn’t the only thing they’ll be discussing in the morning.

Alan considers dropping the clothes on the floor of Brooks’ bedroom—or, better yet, tossing them onto the lad’s bed—but the door is closed and he doesn’t want to be petty. He’ll address it after they’ve both had a good night’s sleep.

So he deposits the clothes into the hamper at the end of the hall, then steps into the bathroom and turns on the light before setting the glass on the counter. His nephew’s room is across the hall, so Alan places the trainers by his door. There he hesitates, hand on the knob, listening.

Silence. If Brooks is still up, playing on his phone, he’s being sneaky about it.