I took that as a sign of approval. I walked over to him and was halfway across the room when the front door slammed open.

“Dawn, Dad!” Eric cried out. My ever jumpy heart leapt to my throat.

I turned around, expecting to see Eric covered in bruises again.

Instead I saw his increasingly handsome, smiling face.

“What?” I asked. I exchanged a look with my dad and he shrugged.

“It’s gone!” He exclaimed. “It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone!”

I didn’t dare let my mind jump to the conclusion it wanted to, that he was speaking normally and his face and body was completely still and relaxed.

“What’s gone, son?” my dad asked.

“Look at me!” He grinned and held himself completely motionless. “I didn’t have an episode all day, even when Pete Weatherby got in my face. It’s gone. The Tourette’s is gone. It’s a miracle!”

He began dancing around the room and swept me up into an enthusiastic embrace. I hugged him back and fought back the urge to cry. Not because I was happy.

Because I was afraid.

They had found me.

I held Eric tightly while the words echoed in my head.

Be careful what you wished for.


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