Jonas groaned and rolled over in bed, attempting to grab his phone from the nightstand, where it was plugged in, charging. What time was it?
He hadn’t quite reached the phone, so he sat up on one elbow and fumbled for it with his hand. He ended up knocking it off the table and onto the floor. By this time, the phone had stopped ringing.
Crap, he thought, feeling for the switch to turn on the lamp next to the bed. He winced at the bright light that flooded the room. He reached down and retrieved the phone, pulling it toward him by the charger cord still attached to it.
Phone now in hand, Jonas switched the light back off.
He frowned. Why would Brennan be calling him? She didn’t call; she texted. Jonas looked at the time then. Ten minutes past midnight. The phone display went dark in his hand, and he stared at the blank screen.
Why would Brennan be calling him this late? Why would she be calling me at all?
The phone dinged and lit up once more.
One new voice mail.
Jonas unlocked the phone, wide awake now, and opened Voicemail, hitting Play and putting the phone to his ear.
The first thing he registered was the panic in Brennan’s voice. It kind of sounded like she was crying.
“Ambreen! Please look at your phone!” She sounded like she was pleading. Jonas’s frown deepened.
“You said you wouldn’t leave me alone. You said we could stick together. But you left, and some guy tried to make me dance with him, and he was getting too close—” Brennan’s voice broke, interrupted by a hiccoughing sob. By this time, Jonas was sitting up in bed, his grip on the phone tightening.
“Please come get me. I need you to come get me right now. I’m at a playset somewhere in Road’s Edge. It’s by a lake? I don’t really know where it is other than that. Please, Ambreen. I need you to—”
The voice mail cut off. That was it. That was the (heartbreaking) end.
Jonas swung his good leg over the edge of the bed, already hitting Call Back. The call went straight to voice mail.
Jonas’s mind was racing. Had her phone died? What party had they been at? And Brennan was outside now, at night?
Jonas tried the phone again. Again, straight to voice mail.
He was fully out of bed now. His fingers fumbled as he put the prosthesis on, forcing himself to slow down and get it on properly after dropping it twice. He hunched over his crutches and tried the phone again. Voice mail. Again.
Crap. Crap, crap, crap. He crutched across the room, then back a few times, trying to figure out what to do. His body hummed with nervous energy. You’ve got to go get her. What if her phone died and she’s alone? If something happened? What if something happened? What if it’s happened already? Come on. He tried to talk himself into it. Let’s go.
Remembering how chilly it was outside, he put on a jacket before grabbing his keys and wallet and heading out the door.
It took an eternity for the elevator to climb to the third floor. Come on. Come on, come on. Why didn’t you learn to take the damn stairs?
In the elevator, Jonas tried Brennan’s number again. The caller you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone.
He was already sweating by the time he made his way across campus. He dropped the keys twice trying to unlock Gus’s driver-side door. His hands were shaking now. (He tried to convince himself it was because of the cold.)
He turned it into steps:
1. Start the car. (He started it.)
2. Put it into Reverse. (Wait, back into Park. Seat belt on. Then Reverse again.)
3. Back out.
He hadn’t adjusted the rearview mirror. When he glanced up, he saw himself instead of the rear window and it really hit him then. You have to drive. You have to drive; there is no other way you can make absolutely, 100 percent sure, that she’s safe. You’re going to drive.
Rhys had one of those solar dancing animals on the dash (it was from his girlfriend, Madison) and, even though the sun wasn’t out, it rattled all the same. Jonas tried to focus on that instead of his own rapidly beating heart. He didn’t want to drive on the highway. He always took the Metro and the bus to his class at SIUE, to avoid it. But this was more important than being afraid of driving.
He picked up the phone again. Voice mail, again. “Brennan,” he said, as the voice mail tone sounded in his ear. “If you get this, hold on, okay? I’m coming.”
Jonas had never gone this fast. Even when he’d driven before The Accident, he’d never gone above five over. He’d just never liked driving fast.
Now, however, Jonas was going around eighty in a seventy-mile-per-hour zone (at this point, he didn’t think he could move his foot anyway, he was so tense). He had two prayers at that moment:
1. That Brennan wasn’t coming to any harm.
2. That there weren’t any cops along Interstate 55.
Thankfully, he made it to his exit without any flashing lights turning the darkness blue. It was around twelve thirty now. Jonas wondered if Ambreen had come to get Brennan. He doubted it, if Brennan had called him by mistake. Maybe she’d managed to get out one more call before her phone died—realized her mistake and called Ambreen. Maybe his phone had only reached her voice mail the first time because she was already calling Ambreen.
He accelerated onto Interstate 255, hands gripping the steering wheel like he might crash if he let go, as he watched the speedometer climb.
He passed eighty and forced himself to slow down. He grabbed his phone, swerving a little and having to consciously tell himself it was okay, he’d driven with one hand before. Nothing is going to happen; it’s fine. He fumbled a bit before managing to unlock the phone and call Brennan.
Voice mail again.
Jonas hung up, and then accidentally dropped the phone on the floor instead of returning it to the passenger seat. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands. Tightly.
He passed a semi, and his grip on the wheel went white knuckled, his breathing speeding up until the truck was left in the distance. His head swam. His foot felt leaden on the gas. He could practically feel the sweat gathering on his forehead and the nape of his neck.
Following his phone’s muffled-against-the-floor directions, he took Exit 3 for Edwardsville. Why is it taking so long? It feels like it’s taking forever. He looked at the dash clock, the numbers glowing in the darkness. Only 12:40 a.m. Only ten minutes since he’d last checked.
The road was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers out late. The GPS directed him to make a right, and there it was, after a lone stoplight. Road’s Edge. The newer development was still lit up, and Jonas wondered which light in the darkness was the party Brennan had been at.
He slowed down, peering out the window and trying to see past the lighted apartments, looking for a playset. She’d said the far end—it probably wasn’t bad to keep going.
The road stopped, running into another parking lot, with a sort of roundabout for drivers to turn around. Jonas was about to go all the way around the roundabout when he saw it.
A playset, the moon shining down on plastic and metal from a gap in the cloud cover.
Jonas couldn’t help but think it looked like a horror movie.
He parked the car and let it idle, frowning. The playset looked empty. Perhaps Brennan had been picked up already. Perhaps she was fine. Okay. Okay.
Jonas turned off the car and got out, retrieving his crutches (and his fallen phone) from the passenger side. He locked the car, which chirped in the silence, headlights flashing, and put the keys in his jeans pocket.
He made his way slowly toward the playset, looking to the left and right as he approached it. It appeared to be deserted. A chilly breeze blew, rocking the empty swings gently back and forth. Up in the sky, clouds filled in the gap, covering the moon.
Jonas’s frown deepened as he approached the play area. “Brennan?” he whispered quietly. No one answered, but in the silence after he’d spoken, he heard shuffling, and then what sounded like sniffling.
Maybe she was afraid to come out?
The noises had come from the slide.
Jonas reached the ladder and (after a few moments of hesitation—Climbing a ladder?? Can you climb a ladder?) climbed up it, half dragging his left leg and finally struggling onto the platform at the top. The stump hurt after his clumsy journey up the ladder, and the breeze tugged at his hair and cut through his jacket. Below, it knocked over his crutches from where he’d leaned them against the playset.
He stood by the entrance to the slide, leaned forward slightly, and peered into the darkness, trying not to topple over.
“Brennan?” he asked again. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, illuminating the tunnel to reveal her. Brennan, huddled in the place where the slide turned, curled into a ball. She looked up, squinting into the light. He almost dropped the phone again.
“Jonas?” she said, her voice hoarse and small. “Wh—what are you doing here? Did you drive? Are you okay?” She was asking him how he was? She was shivering, her teeth knocking against her words. Jonas was suddenly conscious of how cold it actually was. She was wearing jeans and some insubstantial flowy top. “How did you get here?” she kept saying. “How did you know I was here? Were you at the party too?”
Jonas set the phone down and went down onto his good knee, ignoring the ache of his remaining left leg protesting the new positioning, and holding his hand out to her. “Never mind that,” he said. “Get up here first, okay?”
She looked hesitant.
“Come on, Brennan!” he snapped, irritated. At the crumpled look on her face, he immediately wished the words hadn’t come out that way. He’d just been so worried. Now that he had her, and he knew she was safe (was she safe? had anything happened?), all the nervous energy was dissipating into impatience, unfortunately.
He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. Just come up, all right? It’s freezing out here. You’re shaking.”
Brennan gave him her hand. It was cold as ice. (His own hand was probably clammy, thanks to the drive over.)
Jonas helped her up and then stood, pulling her to her feet next to him.
They both climbed down from the playset, Jonas doing his best not to fall on his face. He picked up his crutches and studied Brennan, looking for any signs of injury or struggle, before pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. She was still shivering and crying, and now her nose was running, too, her cheeks and upper lip pitifully wet.
“Geez, Brennan, what happened to you?” he muttered. He moved both crutches under his left arm before putting his right around her and pulling her into him, rubbing her arm, trying to warm her up.
She didn’t answer, just leaned her head against him as they started to make their way slowly to the car. Jonas helped her into the passenger seat and then made his way to the driver’s side.
He got in and started the car, turning on the heater and pointing it at Brennan, who was still wrapped in his jacket. She stared straight ahead, not speaking, hardly blinking.
By now, the clouds that had gathered were unleashing their burdens.
The rain-blurred reflections of streetlights bled over the pavement, and the thwick thwick of the windshield wipers filled the silence in the car. Jonas forced himself to breathe normally, like his brain wasn’t having a mini meltdown over driving in the rain.
Brennan stared straight ahead, shell-shocked. She held on to Jonas’s crutches like she was holding on for dear life.
“Where are we going?” she asked suddenly.
“We’re just going,” Jonas said, glancing sideways at her. “For however long you need.” It felt right to say it. It felt less right after he’d said it, and his brain caught up and realized it meant more driving.
“Nothing happened, you know,” she finally said, after another few moments of silence. Jonas glanced sideways at her again. She looked like she was shrinking, shoulders hunched and curled inward, arms around herself like a shield.
“But it could have,” he finally said. “And that’s important. It doesn’t mean any less just because it didn’t go that far.” Jonas sucked in a breath at the potent mixture of rage and fear that shot through his veins at the thought. “It doesn’t mean any less, Brennan,” he said again, firmly. “You are still allowed to feel this way.”
She looked at him then, finally, her eyes red and bleary. She nodded, and then lapsed back into silence, returning her gaze to the window. Even when his accelerating and braking were shaky, she didn’t say anything.
Jonas drove around for a while, until the rain stopped, then pulled into a mostly empty parking lot, his entire body slumping in relief as he turned the car off. Jenny’s Diner. Open LATE: till 3 a.m.
Brennan looked around before frowning. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re getting breakfast,” he said, shrugging and turning off Gus. Jonas gestured to the clock, which read 1:37 a.m., glowing in the dark for a moment before shutting off now that the car wasn’t running. “Good morning, Brennan.”
He took the crutches (trying not to hit her in the face as he moved them to his side and got out) and came around to Brennan’s side. When she got out, she halted by the car and refused to take another step forward. “I-I can’t,” she said. “I-I let them put makeup on me. I cried . . . mascara—”
Jonas frowned, observing her now that the lights in the parking lot let him really see her. Her hair was a little messy (and shorter than it had been when he’d last seen her) and her makeup did look a little smudged. He didn’t care. “You look fine,” he said. “Come on.”
She still didn’t come, so he sighed, moved his crutches to his left side again, and stuck out his hand, offering it to her. She stared at his outstretched hand for a few moments before giving in and taking it. He led her inside, trying not to think about how small her hand was in his, even though he’d never thought of his own hands as particularly large.
They found a booth next to the window and sat down. Brennan didn’t let go of Jonas’s hand, like she was stuck there, so they sat on the same side of the table.
A waitress came by and handed them menus and glasses of water. Jonas asked Brennan what she wanted, but she just shrugged.
So he ordered a pancake breakfast to share, and asked for an extra plate.