The Pass (Smart Jocks #5) - Rebecca Jenshak Page 0,65
my phone in hand, I stare at the dark screen and will Tanner to get here. I didn’t ask how far away he was, so I don’t know if soon is five minutes or twenty.
At the thirty mark, also known as the brink of insanity, I wander back out. Amelia’s moved to the window and looks out. Tara and Corinne lie on the floor with their phones and half a dozen nail polish bottles.
“You should save your battery in case the power stays out,” I say.
“Eh, I’m sure it’ll be back soon. It went out last summer for like an hour.” Tara doesn’t look up as she blows off my suggestion.
Ignoring her, I move to stand by the counter in the kitchen. I’m too anxious to sit. I feel uneasy and I’m not sure if it’s only because I’m in a room with my boyfriend’s ex and his psycho sister. My fingers curl around my phone. I want to call him and see where he is, make sure he’s safe, but I don’t want him to answer or run his battery down if he’s on his way. I just need to know he’s all right.
After an hour, Tara finally looks concerned. “Maybe he pulled off to wait out the worst of it.” Her brow furrows as she glances out. The rain has slowed, but the wind still blows hard and the thunder continues. “I’m going to call him.”
An unsettled feeling spreads through me and I pace and bring my thumbnail to my mouth while Tara holds the phone to her ear for long enough that I know Tanner isn’t answering.
“Straight to voicemail,” she says, ends the call, and tries again.
“His phone probably died.”
“Should we go try to find him? What if he’s had an accident?”
“Let’s not assume the worst,” I say, even though I’m currently swiping through a mental slideshow of all kinds of horrendous possibilities.
“We can’t just leave him out there,” Tara insists.
“He said to stay put.” I want to be here about as much as I want to stab a sharp stick into my eye, but panicking isn’t going to help.
Tara rolls her eyes, but I find an unlikely advocate in Corinne who says, “Sydney’s probably right. Let’s not do anything rash just yet.”
“I’m going to find my brother,” Tara says as she heads to the door. “I can’t just sit here and—”
“There’s a tree down on the highway,” Amelia interrupts. “It’s shut down in both directions.”
A heavy silence settles around us and the pit in my stomach grows until I want to double over in pain.
“Where would he go if he couldn’t get here?” I ask.
“Jonah’s maybe?” There’s genuine worry on Tara’s face that temporarily makes me forget how awful she is.
“That’s thirty minutes by road in good weather.” The thought of him out there stranded makes my stomach drop. “I’ll text Jonah.”
Keeping myself busy edges away a little of the dread, but as I scroll through my phone, I realize I don’t have Jonah’s number.
“Crap, I don’t have it. Do you?”
Tara shakes her head. “No, but maybe I have someone else in my contacts.”
“Good thinking,” I say, thinking of Datson. “I’ll check mine too.”
The power of four girls and the contacts in their phones is impressive, but nearly an hour later, we’ve exhausted them all and no one has heard from Tanner.
“And now my phone is dead,” Tara says with a groan.
“I’m at five percent,” Corinne adds.
“Seven.” Amelia slides hers onto the coffee table.
As I’m deciding whether or not it’s too extreme to call the highway patrol or hospitals, I’m struck with an idea. “Is there some sort of online social media group for the neighborhood or a local highway patrol page we could check for updates on accidents and road closures?”
“That’s a good idea,” Corinne says and picks up her phone
We occupy the next hour by scouring local news and social media pages until all our phone batteries die.
“There aren’t any reports of major accidents at the closure. That’s promising,” Amelia says. “And they have crews working on the downed power lines.”
Someone’s stomach growls so loudly we all hear it.
“Tanner is fine. I’m sure of it.” There are so many things I want to say to him, do with him. I’m not me without him.
In the kitchen, I rummage through the pantry and fridge for anything that we can eat without the microwave or oven. “Does anyone else want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” I offer as I start to make myself one.