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?