I have to admit, it’s really weird pulling up to the house where I grew up, considering that the last time I was here I left in a helicopter clutching my half-dead mate’s hand. I glance in the rearview window at my two boys, suddenly realizing that this house is probably full of strange memories for them as well.
Was it wrong to bring them along?
But one glance at Ian lets me know that he, at least, is thrilled.
“Can we go in the basement?! Can we play in the jail where you were locked up, mama?!”
“Is that really what you want to do?” I ask, screwing up my face with distaste as I put the car in park out front.
Alvin bites his lip, looking at me, clearly not as eager to re-enact his trauma as Ian is. I laugh, shaking my head and starting to get out of the car. The boys join me in t
