I woke up the next morning to sunshine and the grinding buzz of my phone vibrating on my nightstand. I slapped at the phone to silence it and pulled my thick, down comforter back over my head.
It had been after 4 a.m. when I finally got back home last night, and already the choice I’d made felt scarier, more real in the light of day. Parading around with the Sisterhood at night was one thing, but the idea of joining their ranks in the halls of Pemberly Brown on Monday made me burrow deeper into the safety of my bed. At least for the weekend.
My phone buzzed again. It was probably Seth, my neighbor who doubled as bodyguard, lap dog, or best friend, depending on the day. He’d want details of last night. Excruciating details that he’d be able to write about on his weirdo conspiracy-theory, secret-society-obsessed blog. I needed an IV drip of caffeine before I’d be ready to deal with any of it.
Or maybe it was Liam.
I’d already been over hundreds of different scenarios in my head.
Me: Hi, Liam.
Liam: Hi, Kate.
Me: I miss you.
Liam: I miss you too.
Me: Let’s get back together.
Liam: Awesome. So you’re done with that whole obsessive revenge thing? Whoo-hoo!
Me: Um, yeah, about that…
Liam: *Click*
There’s a version where he asks me to marry him, a version where he drives to my house and tries to whisk me away to Paris for a romantic weekend, and my personal favorite, a version where he decides to get my likeness tattooed on his chest, radioactive hair and all.
But every fantasy ends the same way—Liam wanting something I can’t give him.
Reality really sucks sometimes.
I threw the covers off and kicked myself out of bed in one quick motion. I wasn’t sure if it was yet another Liam fantasy or my craving for coffee that got me out of bed. Did it really matter? Either way, I was up.
I snatched my phone off the nightstand and headed into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Thirty-four missed calls. Jesus. Seth must be on a mission. I began scrolling through the names after I stuck the toothbrush in my mouth.
Seth cell (4)
Maddie (1)
Naomi (2)
Seth home (3)
Alistair (21)
My eyes widened as I scrolled through an almost endless list of missed calls from Alistair. Twenty-one calls. Whoa. It’s not like he and I were besties. I didn’t even realize he had my number before last night. I had totally forgotten that he called, and even if I hadn’t, there was no way I would have called him back. It had been so late and it just didn’t seem important. I took a gulp of water, wiped my mouth on my sleeve, and dialed his number.
One, two, three, four, five rings.
“Yo, it’s Alistair…”
Voicemail.
I thought about leaving a message but hung up. It couldn’t have been that important if he hadn’t bothered to pick up his phone. I headed downstairs to find my parents sitting at the table with matching coffee mugs and vacant stares.
They both straightened up and exchanged a meaningful look when they saw me walk into the kitchen. Shit. I was in trouble. I had to be. They never lounged around in robes on the weekend. If they weren’t volunteering or starting some house project, they were buried in notes preparing for some epic case that would require as many hours as they could possibly bill in a week.
“Um, good morning…” I moved as quickly as I could to grab a coffee mug and filled it to the brim. Something told me this conversation would require a major caffeine buzz.
My mother’s arms were around me before I could even turn back around. “Oh Kate, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“Um, hey…wow…” My voice was still light, but a pit began to form in my stomach, small, hard, and impossible to ignore. “What’s going on?” My mind flashed to all the missed calls on my phone.
“Oh God, you don’t know.” My mother pulled back and rested her hands on my shoulders. “It’s Alistair Reynolds.”
The pit in my stomach grew until it felt like I’d swallowed a softball.
“Alistair? What about him?” I raised my hands and took a step back from my mother, watching her expression carefully. The slack muscles around her mouth and the way she closed her eyes and took a deep breath told me everything I needed to know.
“There was an accident, honey.” My father’s voice was calm. Unemotional. If I hadn’t seen the way his jaw clenched and twitched, I might have believed that everything was going to be okay, but instead, the now basketball-sized lump was caught in my throat. I dropped the steaming coffee, hot liquid splattering on my bare legs, shards of glass biting into my feet, as I ran back upstairs. Back to my phone.
I swiped Alistair’s name again.
One, two, three, four, five.
“Yo, it’s Alistair…”
I hung up and redialed.
One, two, three, four, five.
“Yo, it’s Alistair…”
The next time, I stopped listening to the rings and began counting. I watched the timer tick through the seconds and counted just like I’d done after Grace. Only this time as the phone rang, I stared at Alistair’s face and counted.
Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one.
“Yo, it’s Alistair…”
I paced back and forth in my room, calling over and over again only to hear the same stupid message. By the time my parents managed to unlock my door, I was on my twenty-first call. The exact number of times that he’d tried to call me last night.
“He’s gone, Kate. It happened last night around 3 a.m. We didn’t find out until this morning. I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
I pushed past her, locked myself in the bathroom, and dialed one more time, staring at Alistair’s straight nose and wavy hair.
Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one.
This time, I left a message.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped into the phone. “I’m so sorry.”
And then I threw up.