When I pulled up in front of Safe Haven and parked in the small lot across the street, I was actually excited. Ransom needed my help, and it made me giddy to think that he’d decided he could rely on me. Even if I was the most logical choice because I knew Cindy. Semantics be damned. I was gonna rock the shit out of being Ransom Helper.
Maybe I need to work on that name.
When I got inside, I swept my gaze over the room in search of Ransom. His truck was in the lot, so I knew he was here, but I didn’t see him anywhere. I felt a brief surge of disappointment that I quickly told myself was ridiculous. Since when did I need to see Ransom so badly?
Get a grip.
The kids weren’t due to show up for another half hour, so after saying hello to everyone, I set about helping Marty get snacks ready. Once we were done divvying up trail mix into small plastic cups, I moved to the sink to fill the water pitcher. With my back to the room, I was startled by a loud bang and a muffled curse behind me.
Twisting around suddenly, I sloshed water all over the floor. “Damn,” I muttered before looking up to see what had caused the racket.
Ransom and Roddie were struggling to bring a gigantic couch into the room—a feat the narrow doorway was making difficult.
“Bro, I told you we shoulda come in the other way,” Roddie said as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
“That would’ve meant going through the entire center. Stacey would’ve caught us.”
I dropped a few paper towels on the mess and then made my way over to them. “Why are you bringing a ratty couch in here?”
Roddie pressed a hand to his chest as if he’d been an insulted maiden. “This baby’s in near perfect condition.”
He and I clearly had very different concepts of what constituted “near perfect.” There were tears in the upholstery and a dark mark at the base. And that was just what I could see with it wedged in the door.
“Where’d you get it?” I asked.
Roddie sniffed. “Next to a dumpster down the street.”
“Hmm. And you thought you should trash pick it and bring it here because…?”
“Because I figured it would be awesome to sit on while we play video games.”
I couldn’t suppress an eye roll. Safe Haven had a good-sized TV that was hooked up to a PlayStation. It was supposed to be a privilege for kids who completed their homework when they first arrived, but Roddie often set up tournaments that he said nullified that rule because it was a special circumstance. And even though this special circumstance happened damn near every week, causing Harry to make a number of hollow threats about disconnecting everything, Roddie remained resolute in his assertion that he was providing a valuable service by educating kids in the fine art of gaming.
“We don’t even know what that thing is crawling with,” I said. “You can’t let the kids sit on it.”
“I know, Mother,” Roddie said, sounding more like a preteen than a college student. “I plan to deep clean it and get a slipcover. But it’s supposed to storm tonight, so I can’t leave it outside while I do that. I’ll just put caution tape on it or something until it’s clean.”
“Where are you going to get caution tape?”
“From Edith. She has everything.”
He was probably right. Harry’s secretary was like a Mary Poppins of office supplies. Though I thought caution tape might be beyond her scope.
“Hey, guys,” Ransom called from where he stood outside with the other end of the couch. “This is a fascinating argument, but can we finish it after we clear the doorway of this thing? The kids are gonna be here soon.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry, man,” Roddie said as he crouched down to grab the couch. “Give it a solid push on the count of three.”
I looked around at the array of toys and puzzles behind Roddie. “I don’t think this is gonna work.”
“One,” Roddie started. “Two.”
“Guys—”
“Three!” Roddie yelled, tugging his hardest as Ransom pushed.
I was relieved when the couch didn’t budge. I’d had mental images of Roddie falling over the objects behind him as a couch drove him into the floor.
“Roddie,” Ransom called. “Back up. I’m gonna get a running start and push it through.”
“I don’t think—”
“Hell yeah! Use those football muscles, brother,” Roddie yelled.
“Ransom, maybe you should try a different way.”
“Never give up, never surrender,” he yelled back at me.
“I don’t think that applies here.”
“Stand back,” he yelled, sounding farther away than before. I wondered with concern at how long this running start was going to be.
Roddie and I moved a good ways back just as the sound of sneakers hitting blacktop reached us.
“Oh God,” I whispered.
A second later, Ransom made contact with the couch. It felt as if the entire room shook, which ordinarily would be an exaggeration, but I could’ve sworn Ransom’s hit on the couch jolted the entire center. The couch inched forward with his momentum behind it, but Ransom didn’t stop pushing. After a second, there was a sharp crack, and the sofa tumbled forward, hurtling into the room like someone had flung it from a slingshot. The wooden feet groaned across the linoleum flooring before it crashed into the games and toys I’d been worried Roddie was going to be tossed into earlier.
An “oof” came as a heavy thud sounded from the doorway. I turned to see Ransom lying on the ground like Superman, all his limbs spread wide.
The doorjamb was ripped open, the wood exposed after the couch had ripped part
