No one was more surprised than Rabbit when Lyn announced they were going to Staten Island. It was the last place he had expected Vic to end up, the last place he imagined he'd return to on a whirlwind trip to the city, but it seemed fitting even so. He could make everything right again here, where things had gone so wrong.

He recalled that Lyndon had a motorcycle, and while that turned out to still be the case, it was no longer the growling, quaking s**t disturber of days gone by. It was one of those cross-country deals with the hard, plastic packs over the back tire and a wide enough wheel base to stay upright after hitting a possum. Rabbit almost felt secure nestled between the storage and Lyn's broad back. Almost. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was on the verge of mistakenly leaning too far to one side and sending them skidding across the Gowanus.

As they crested the peak of the Verrazano, Rabbit braced for change, but the only real difference he saw was in the number of E-ZPass lanes and how brightly they glowed, even at noon. It was only when they hit Hylan Boulevard that he got his first shock. Everything was so busy and cramped and small, the places he had frequented as a kid now hunched and cracked like strategically placed piles of old ladies. He'd had plenty of opportunities to return here over the years, considering his mother still lived on the island, but whenever he and Liv had come down to visit, Mom had always met them in the city. She'd insisted it was more convenient, but now he wondered if she was somehow subconsciously trying to hide what a mess this place had become.

Lyn cruised past car dealerships and nail salons, a bowling alley, Staples, and the Colonnade before turning left toward the water. Duplexes that Rabbit had last seen when they were new were now just as run down as everything else, siding yellowed and front yards full of weeds. He recalled pools and rows upon rows of perfect Stepford houses, and that's what he got, until they turned a corner and he first caught sight of number ninety-seven.

Its yard was well maintained, a stand of purple flowers bordered by a cheery smattering of shiny blue and green stones. There was no dog. No pool. A black jeep in the driveway, its paint job matte and scuffed. Before Lyn could pull in behind it, Rabbit knew this was the place. When the engine cut off, he didn't move.

"Nervous?"

"Duh."

The last time he had spoken to Vic, the conversation had ended with Rabbit taking a mostly naked jog of shame out to his car and speeding away, scarred for life. He felt detached, distant, thinking about it now. Maybe the scars weren't as deep as he'd thought.

He slid off of the bike a few minutes later, brushing off his clothes and silently approaching the door. He knocked. Muffled voices sounded from inside just before the door swung wide. There was a boy. A little boy where Vic should have been. He squinted up at Rabbit, hand still protectively clutching the doorknob.

"Hi. Who're you?"