Stephanie's POV
The world came back in pieces. First, it was the smell. Old French fries and fake pine air freshener. Then, a sound. A low rumble. An engine. Something soft under my cheek. A seat.
I opened my eyes. I was in the back of a minivan. An old, tan one. The kind soccer moms drive. Gray fabric seats. Crumbs in the cupholders.
Cane was in the driver's seat. His hair was wet and flat. He had a cut on his temple, a dark red line. He was focused on the road, his knuckles white on the wheel. Henry was beside him in the passenger seat, looking out the window, a rifle resting between his knees like it was a normal umbrella.
My head was in someone's lap. I looked up. Mabel. She was looking down at me, her kind face tight with worry. She smoothed my hair back.
"Welcome back, sleepyhead," she said, but her voice didn't have its usual music.
