“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.