Free Hushed by Kelley York Page A

back slowly. She wouldn’t apologize. It was stupid to think she would. “I came to see Dr. Romero.”
    She fussed with the zipper on her purse. “Are you sick?”
    He wanted to tell her yes, and it’s serious, just to see what her reaction would be. His chest tightened. “Do you care?”
    “You’re my son, why wouldn’t I care?”
    “Because your attempts at being motherly are pretty transparent.” He normally didn’t talk to her like this, but it hurt . Between her and Vivian, he had no patience left.
    This time his mother did look at him, her gray eyes hard. Everyone told him he had eyes like hers. The same fine, dark hair. He didn’t look a thing like his dad; small blessing.
    “Don’t you dare try to twist this around on me. I have every right to–”
    “Be afraid of me?” he finished. The flicker of doubt across her face told him he was spot on. “Why?”
    Her lower lip quivered. “You tell me the truth about what happened to your dad and try asking me that again.”
    It always came back to that with them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom. Dad died of an overdose. It was an accident.”
    His actions, his triumphs and mistakes…the things he did for her, for Vivian, for anyone—she’d lost any and all rights she had by motherly-default years ago. Like hell if he’d share his secrets with her. She wanted to be afraid to justify her distance from him? He could give her a reason. “It could happen to anyone. Even you.” Stupid. So stupid. He would never hurt her. She should’ve known that.
    She said nothing, stunned, trying too hard to figure him out, pick him apart, and decide how to interpret his words. Archer bowed and kissed her cheek. “Bye, Mom. I have a prescription to pick up.”

Wednesday, October 8 th

    He found a pair of Vivian’s socks mixed in with his laundry. They were small and pink, and Archer stared at them for a good five minutes before throwing them into the trash.
    She still hadn’t called. Still hadn’t stopped by. He hated being so angry with her. Shouldn’t he be used to being ditched? Mom turned her back on him just as easily. Vivian didn’t even have the excuse that she was afraid of him.
    More than angry, though, he was scared. If Vivian avoided him, if she really did cut him out of her life, what then? Over a decade of his life, dedicated to her. Her wants, her whims, her comfort and happiness. What was he without her? What was she without him?
    When someone knocked at a quarter past eight p.m., his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t Vivian’s knock, not her rhythmic little ta-ta-tap . But maybe. Maybe. If not her, Evan. He vaulted over the back of the couch and tore the door open, desperate to see one of their faces.
    Archer didn’t recognize the man standing on his porch. Black jeans, white shirt, gray blazer, thinning hair combed back. Trying too hard to look professional. Got the message across anyway. Archer knew what he was.
    “Hello. You Archer Pond?”
    Could he say no and shut the door? Instead he forced a small smile. “That would be me. Can I help you?”
    As he expected, the man pulled an ID out of his pocket. Detective Tom Patterson. What a boring, generic name for a boring and generic-looking guy. “Sorry to bother you, I know it’s kind of late. Would you mind if I came in?”
    Oddly, Archer didn’t panic. His heart didn’t pound. He didn’t shake. He was perfectly calm as he opened the door wider and gestured for Patterson to come in. “Only if I’m allowed to ask what this is about.”
    Patterson shuffled in, sparing a look around. “Do you know a Richter Samuels, by chance?”
    Archer waited for something—some kind of chill, fear, anxiety. Nothing. “Richter? Yeah, sure. Did he do something wrong?”
    The detective chortled. He turned back around to face Archer. “Probably, but we’ll never know it now. He was murdered.”
    At least he didn’t survive this time , he thought. Just as quickly he shoved it aside, as