And there was another tendril of worry unfurling in his gut, of course. If the Burned Skulls really were coming to town, where the hell did that leave Uncle Will?
Aaron pulled out his phone. Should he text him? Or text Quinn and ask him if he could warn Uncle Will?
He stared at the screen of his phone, and then shoved it back into his pocket.
Shit. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do, except wait like Quinn had said.
The afternoon passed slowly, and Aaron felt the weight of every minute.
When the police cruiser pulled up in the driveway at just before seven, Aaron’s heart raced and his hands began to shake. What if something had gone wrong? But Uncle Will climbed out of the driver’s seat, a takeout bag swinging from his hand, and Aaron pushed down his rising panic.
He opened the front door. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Uncle Will stepped inside. “You eat yet?”