by Tijan
I couldn’t hear a sound. Still.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“She knows everything?” Ryan asked.
I lay on my bed later that night, my phone to my ear. “They’ve known about it the whole time.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” I rolled to my back.
I could hear music blaring in his background and assumed he was still at Kirk’s. He’d texted a few times since I’d gone, so after the meltdown with my mom, I called him. He needed to be warned about what was coming. I’d also had to fess up about not going to see Robbie.
“You lied?” he’d asked, his voice sounding off.
“I didn’t want to be a clinger and make you hate me for being all fucked up in the head.”
He laughed. “I’ve never told you, but I think the reason I let you stay in my bed that first night was because of how fucked you are in the head.”
I sat up. “No way.”
“The more fucked up they are, the more I like them.”
I rolled my eyes, hearing the teasing in his voice. “You’re messing with me.”
He laughed again, a short bark. “Yeah, I am. You aren’t that messed up, and if I’d met you without everything that happened, I still would’ve wanted you. I can tell you that much. You don’t have to worry about me.”
You hear that, Willow?
I imagined her response: Bite me.
But we moved our conversation on to the fact that I was going to see Robbie tomorrow.
“Are you going during school or after school?”
I frowned. “I imagine after school? My mom wasn’t too thrilled to hear that I’d skipped today.”
The two pieces that had molded together earlier seemed to reach out and fit with another. That was three pieces of me put back together right. I could feel an almost calm emanating from them.
I could only smile, knowing I looked like an idiot, if anyone were to see me. They would’ve assumed I was glowing because I was on the phone with Ryan, but nope—just me, my messed-up self, and three little pieces.
It would’ve made sense only to Willow.
Hearing the shout of voices from his end, I asked, “You’re still at Kirk’s?”
“Yeah.” He sighed and then barked at them, “Leave me alone! I’m on the phone!”
Something slammed, and the sound was suddenly muffled. He came back to the phone, clearer. “Everyone’s drunk. Kirk’s shut himself in a room with two chicks. Cora is crying, and she won’t tell me why.” He sounded so tired. “I made Peach go home, but I’m pretty sure she hates me now.”
He was being a good brother. “Come over here.”
He didn’t reply at first. “Are you sure?” he finally asked. “I mean, with your mom knowing . . .”
“I’ll sneak you in.” I suddenly wanted to see him so badly. “Can you drive?”
“Yeah. I only drank when you were here, and it was those two shots of tequila. I’ve been holding the same beer bottle since then so everyone stays off my back.”
My heart sped up.
He was coming over.
“Okay. Park around the corner. I don’t know if my mom is back to being a mom or if she was on a break from her mourning this afternoon, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
He chuckled, sounding tired. “Okay. I’m sneaking out of here. Be there in a bit.”
After we hung up, I went to my door and opened it an inch. I listened, but there were no sounds coming from anywhere in the house. I knew my mom was home. And it was around eleven, so if my dad wasn’t home, he’d be coming soon.
Tiptoeing down the hallway, I felt wrong—like I was breaking and entering on my own property, but I wanted to know. If my mom was up and about, that’d make things difficult for sneaking Ryan in.
The main living room was empty.
So was the study.
Her office.
The kitchen.
No longer caring about sound, I ran upstairs. My heart pounded again.
It was still somewhat early for us. Usually, my mom would be in her office or in the living room, but I never checked their bedroom.
It should’ve been the first place I looked, and once there, I flung open the door.
I expected . . . something. Snoring, the blankets bunched up where my mom should’ve been.
But there was nothing. Absolutely nada.
No one in her bedroom, her bed, her bathroom, her closet. I even looked under the goddamn bed, because you never knew. I was hoping.
I raced down to the basement. Nothing.
I still turned on every light in every room, even in the freaking closets.
The same. Nothing.
The back patio. Some nights she would sit out there with her laptop and a glass of wine, and I held my breath as I climbed the stairs. But to no avail. Even before I opened the back door, I knew no one was out there.
I felt the dread stirring in my gut.
I had one last place to look, and going to the garage, I stood a moment in the doorway before I comprehended what I was seeing.
There were no cars.
My dad had the main one, but . . . our Tahoe was gone, too—the vehicle my mom used if she had to go somewhere on her own.
They were both gone.
She had left me.
After the whole no-more-virginity talk and everything . . . well, there hadn’t been a talk. She’d sat and cried until I got uncomfortable and started to slip away. She asked if I wanted something to eat. I told her no and changed my mind later.
I went back down to the kitchen, but she wasn’t there. I’d heated up some food—who knows how long it had been in there—but nothing else looked good to me.
It made me wonder if she been gone this whole time. Had she already gone then?
I was walking back to my room to get my phone when I saw the answering machine blinking. I usually ignored the messages. They were always for my parents, but what did I have to lose? Maybe she’d called and left me a message?
Hitting the button, I heard, “You have one new message, sent from Charlotte Malcolm.”
I moved closer.
“Hey, honey. Your cell isn’t working for me, for some reason. I went to the store to get some food. We only have old pizza in the fridge, but your father called. Something came up. I’m heading into the city tonight. Be a good teenage daughter. No sex. I’m sure Ryan will sneak over, and that’s fine as long as you guys sleep. Only sleep. You got that, right? And go to school tomorrow. I’ll leave work early to pick you up before going to Robbie’s. I love you, and—” The message clicked off.
I hit the next button, skipping to the message after hers, but it was someone for my dad.
I don’t know how long I stood there.
She hadn’t left me. She’d called. She remembered me.
She was gone for the night because things came up. That made sense.
The three little pieces, which had started to splinter apart again, started to settle back into place. They were still intact.
I took a calming breath.
My hands were sweating. I rubbed them down my lounge pants.
They still cared.
She still cared.
A soft knock came from the door, and I looked through the window.
Ryan had arrived.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I was barely sleeping when I heard a soft thud.
Sitting up, I felt Ryan’s arm tighten around my waist, and I paused. His breathing was still even. I hadn’t woken him. Gingerly slipping out from underneath his arm, I crept out of bed.
There were two nightlights set up in the hallway, one at each end, so I could walk toward my parents’ bedroom without needing to turn a light on.
Shivers moved down my spine as I padded away from my room.
Thud!
“Shit.”
I paused. That was my father. Frowning, I moved closer. Their door wasn’t closed. It was open two inches. One of the lamps was on, and as I p
eered inside, my dad walked past me, heading for the bathroom.
The bed was made. No one was sleeping. Instead, piles of clothes were all over it with a bunch of boxes set around the room. Some were open, and some were already closed. They had been moved closer to the door, as if ready for pick-up.
My dad came back out of their bathroom, his arms full of toiletries. He dumped them into one of the boxes and tossed some of his shirts on top before closing it.
“What are you doing?” I moved inside, opening the door wider.
My dad cursed, whirling around. He ran a hand over his face. “Holy shit, Mackenzie. Warn a dad next time, would you?”
I ignored him, focused on the boxes. “What are you doing?”
Were we moving?
I knew we weren’t.
That wouldn’t have made sense.
“Oh, honey.” A whole new voice came from him—the one I’d heard when he told me we were moving to Portside.
I started shaking my head.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“She’s . . .” He took a breath, looking around, and his hand went to his hair. “I can see how this looks, but—”
“It isn’t that? You aren’t moving out?”
My eyes met his, and I knew it was happening.
I could feel Willow behind me, but she was quiet. For once.
“No.” His shoulders slumped suddenly. His hand fell to his side. A look of sadness flashed in his eyes.
I didn’t feel sorry for him.
A foreboding dread sat at the bottom of my sternum. It wouldn’t move so I could breathe easier. It was blocking everything, and I felt like I was going to throw up.
“What are you doing? No bullshit, Dad.”
He gazed around the room once more and gave me the strangest look, like he was seeing into me.
“I’m moving out.”
I didn’t know if I should be relieved or sad. I was neither. I just was. I nodded, looking away.
This made sense.
Grief tore families apart. Didn’t a brochure tell me that one time?
I hugged myself, half turning away. “Are you leaving Mom or are you leaving us?”
He didn’t respond at first, and I knew the answer.
I wanted to turn completely away, give him my back, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I could feel his gaze.
“I’m moving closer to Robbie.”
So he was just leaving Mom and me.
I knew Robbie was at a school and that he seemed to be enjoying it. I knew it was probably good for him not to be living in this dead house, but that was all wrong too. He should be at home. My mom should be there too. My dad shouldn’t be leaving.
I shouldn’t be left alone.
“Mac?”
And the award for best timing ever went to Ryan.
The floor creaked from down the hallway.
“Who is that?” my dad demanded gruffly. “Is that a boy?”
I wanted to roll my eyes. I refrained. Barely. “You’re leaving us. What do you care?”
His mouth closed with a snap, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. I could see him thinking about it, and that was when I noticed the graying hair at his temples. There was more around his ears. The bags under his eyes were epic, and I could’ve sworn his wrinkles had doubled since this summer.
My dad wasn’t an old man, but he was close to resembling one.
“Mac?” Ryan’s whisper was a lot louder. He was right outside the door.
“Who are you?” my dad demanded.
Ryan opened the door and looked at him but had no other reaction. He knew what he was walking into.
“Ryan Jensen, sir. You work with my father.” His shoulders were firm, and he didn’t slouch as he spoke. He wasn’t going anywhere.
That was when I knew for sure. He had come for me, no matter what happened after this.
“Oh.” My dad lost all of his fight. “That’s right. Your father talked to me, mentioned you and my daughter were friends.” He looked between the two of us, lingering on my tank top and shorts before going to the lounge pants Ryan wore. He had pulled on a T-shirt.
My dad rubbed at one of his eyebrows. “You’re sleeping here, Ryan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He’s sleeping with you, Mackenzie?”
I nodded. “You know he is.”
“No. No, I didn’t.” His tone was quiet. “Your mother’s been in touch with Nan. I’m assuming that’s what you’re talking about? Your mother knows?”
I nodded again. Why did it feel like I couldn’t swallow anymore?
Silence filled the room, and Ryan moved closer to me. “Are you okay?”
My dad started laughing and turned toward one of his boxes.
I shook my head, my gaze holding Ryan’s, but I said, “My dad is moving closer to Robbie.”
Ryan didn’t respond. He wasn’t there for the details. He was still waiting for my cue, if I needed him to stay or if he could go.
I hadn’t made up my mind, so I didn’t answer.
My dad resumed packing, his shoulders tight, and he flung a hand up, knocking his tie over his shoulder.
He was still dressed for the office. I hadn’t registered that before. It seemed pertinent for some reason.
“It’s almost three in the morning,” I murmured, half-asking myself. “Why haven’t you changed clothes?”
Had he gone somewhere after work? Was he going in to work early?
Willow snorted behind me. I doubt he’s even going to work, sis. You aren’t paying attention. Smell, Mac.
Smell what?
Him. You aren’t wearing vanilla perfume, and I don’t think your honey is either.
I felt choked, like someone had reached around and tightened their hold on my throat. She was right.
There was a distinct smell, but it wasn’t vanilla. It was lavender. He smelled like flowers.
I turned to Ryan.
My mom wore a citrus perfume. She hated lavender.
“Mom said you wanted to meet up in the city. Was she wearing perfume when you saw her?” Somehow, I doubted that was hers. My mind was putting two and two together faster than my emotions could, and I felt myself weaving on my feet.
Ryan moved closer, resting his hand behind my hip. His touch steadied me enough to keep me from falling.
“You’re seeing someone else.”
My dad whirled back to us. The blood drained from his face, and then his eyes found Ryan’s hand.
“Get your hand off her.”
I ignored him and surged forward. “Who is it? Who are you leaving us for?”
“Honey.” He flinched as if I’d slapped him across the face.
“Does Mom know?”
His shoulders slouched, and his head hung down. He balled up the shirt in his hand, holding it against his chest. “She knows.”
He couldn’t look at me.
He wasn’t just leaving us; he was going to someone else.
A new family.
Willow and I thought the same thing at the same time.
My stomach twisted, and I could feel the bile rising
“Who?”
“You won’t know her, honey.”
He was speaking in whispers. I wasn’t. My voice grew firmer with each question I asked.
“Who?” I might not know her, but maybe Ryan did. “Is it someone you work with?”
It had to be.
He’d only worked since Willow. And he went to see Robbie, but that was with my mom. Right? They went together?
“Mackenzie, we can talk about this late—”
“WHO?”
I didn’t need Ryan to help hold me up. Rage was doing fine all on its own.
“Mackenzie, honey . . .”
My nostrils flared. “I said who. I want to know who!”
His mouth clamped shut. His hands went to his hips, the shirt too, and he regarded me. It was as if the air had turned solid between us, and my question was like trying to cut throu
gh it with my bare hands.
So be it. I wasn’t afraid of blood. Anymore.
I took a step closer. “Who, Dad?”
“This isn’t the time to talk about this.”
“You tell me or I will make your goddamn life hell.”
Our eyes locked, and he seemed to be weighing whether I meant my threat. I did. I so did.
He let out a sigh. “Her name is Mallory Lockhart. And yes, she works with me.”
I didn’t look back, but I sensed Ryan’s surprise.
“You’re moving in with her?”
“I . . . yes. At least for a while. Your mother and I talked about everything earlier tonight.”
I couldn’t fathom any of this. My mind went blank, and I pushed forward. I needed to get as much information as I could.
“Where’s Mom right now?”
“She’s at a hotel near Robbie.”
That was three hours away. I wouldn’t be going anywhere except to school tomorrow.
“And that was a lie? You saying you were going to move closer to him?”
“No. Well, yes. Mallory’s home is closer to the city and closer to Robbie.” He coughed. “I don’t think your mother is going to be home tomorrow. Are you, I mean . . .”
I looked up. He was watching Ryan with a hard expression.
“What?”
“You’ll be okay to fend for yourself? At least for a few days?”
I laughed then.
I knew everything I needed to know.
No Robbie tomorrow.
No Mom tomorrow.
No Dad until who knew when.
I didn’t answer my dad. I turned, my hands brushing against Ryan’s as I did. It was as if I were watching us from outside my body. It was the three of us again.
I left.
Ryan went behind me.
And Willow brought up the rear.
Counseling Session Four
“You told me a bit about Willow last time. How about you today?”
Naomi’s smile was nice and bright, and I wanted to scratch it off her face. She folded her arms over her lap and gestured toward me, her smile trying to make me feel like we were friends.
“Your mother called. She said you’re seeing a boy. What’s his name?”
