“Why in the world would I?”

He looked at her then, into her pretty blue eyes. “My father was a drunk, and I was a troublemaker.”

“Gage.”

“If Cal or Fox had trouble, I probably started it.”

“I think they started plenty of their own and dragged you into that.”

“You and Jim, you made sure I had a roof over my head-and you made it clear I could have this one, I could have yours whenever I needed it. You kept my father on at the center, even when you should’ve let him go, and you did that for me. But you never made me feel like it was charity. You and Fox’s parents, you made sure I had clothes, shoes, work so I had spending money. And you never made me feel it was because you felt sorry for that poor Turner kid.”

“I never thought of you, and I don’t imagine Jo Barry ever thought of you, as ‘that poor Turner kid.’ You were, and are, the son of my friend. Your mother was my friend, Gage.”

“I know. Still, you could’ve discouraged Cal from hanging out with me. A lot of people would have. I’m the one who had the idea of going into the woods that night.”

The look she gave him was pure mother. “And neither one of them had anything to do with it?”

“Sure, but it was my idea, and you probably figured that out twenty years ago. You still kept the door open for me.”

“None of that was your fault. I don’t know a lot of what you’re doing now, the six of you, what you’ve discovered, what you plan to do. Cal keeps a lot of it from me. I guess I let him. But I know enough to be certain what happened at the Pagan Stone when the three of you were boys wasn’t your fault. And I know without the three of you, and all you’ve done, all you’ve risked, I wouldn’t be sitting here on my patio on this pretty day in May. There’d be no Hawkins Hollow without you, Gage. Without you, Cal, and Fox, this town would be dead.”