take me back downstairs, where a couple of my uncles have filtered in through the front door. They shake the big, white snowflakes off their shoulders and give me a kiss on each cheek. My mother is already cooking a feast for everyone that will end up here today, so I grab an apron and join her in the kitchen.
She gives me a sad look. “I knew you’d come back to us, Serena,” she says. I think she means it in a nice way. It’s supposed to be a compliment, as if this is where I belong.
It feels more like a curse.
23
Kit
I see the exact moment Robbie gets the bad news. He pulls out his phone, powers it up, and horror slowly spreads across his face. His hands tremble as we sit in the cockpit, waiting for the walkway to extend and the air crew to open the plane’s door.
“Everything okay?”
Robbie’s stare is haunted as he turns to look at me. “I need to make a phone call.”
I nod, wishing I could give him more privacy than the confines of this small space. I turn my head away, as if that changes anything.
“Hi, Mom. Just landed. Uh-huh. Is she okay?” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose. I watch him in my peripheral vision, wanting to give him space but understanding something’s wrong. “I know I should have answered, Mom, but I had to board the plane.”
Getting an earful from mommy dearest about ignoring her calls? Is that all that’s wrong? I glance at Robbie and immediately know it’s something more distressing.
“I’m at Bradley right now. I’ll see if we have a pilot on standby who can finish my run today.” After a few more words he hangs up the phone, turning to look at me. “I need to go home. My grandmother’s just had a stroke.”
I stare at him, eyes widening. “What?”
My friend closes his eyes, guilt written all over his features. “That’s why my mother kept calling. It must have happened right after we hung up the first time. I’ll call headquarters to see if there’s a pilot who can take over from here. I’m sorry, Kit.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Is Serena okay?”
“My mother said she’s flying home. She should arrive in New Haven this evening.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, shaking my head.
My heart twists at the thought of Serena traveling on her own across the country, rushing to get over here. If we’d known only an hour or two earlier, we could have gotten her on this flight, probably for a fraction of the price of whatever she paid.
Robbie’s knee bounces up and down as we wait for the doors to open. It’s taking forever—or at least, that’s how it feels. The seconds drag on, one by one.
I text Serena, asking if she’s okay, but the message doesn’t deliver. Maybe she’s in the air already. Sighing, I slip my phone back in my pocket and glance at Robbie. He looks twisted up, hurt.
I’m powerless.
This changes everything. She might not even end up in Woodvale if her grandmother is sick. She might decide to stay close to family. My chest aches at the thought. I’d gotten so used to the idea of having her around that anything different feels empty. Bland. Pointless.
“Are you okay?” I ask gently, wishing there were something better I could say.
Robbie looks at me as if he’d forgotten I was sitting here. He nods. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
It’s a lie, but we both pretend it’s not. I can tell by the lines on his face that he’s in a lot of pain. Even from just one weekend with his family, it was plainly obvious that they care about each other. They’re close.
“Do you know your grandparents?” Robbie asks, his voice wobbling at the end.
I shake my head. “Nah. Never met them.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
I pinch my lips into a smile, shaking my head. “It’s all good. Although I will say, I was a little jealous of your big family. I always wanted that when I was growing up.”
“Overbearing parents and nosy aunts and uncles?” He forces a smile, his shoulders relaxing.
I shrug. “Yeah. Thought I’d have a couple of kids by now.”
Robbie chuckles, but the sound is dipped in sadness. He lets out a long sigh. “I’ll probably take some time off,” he says, staring out through the plane’s windshield at the airport in front of us. “I don’t know who they’ll assign to this route.”
“Someone lame, no doubt,” I answer, scoffing. I miss my