It’s hard to muster up any sympathy for that. Shawn shouldn’t be aroundanywoman until he learns to control himself.
However, Kelly doesn’t know thatIknow the ugly secret about her marriage, so I decide to be a good friend and pat her hand in comfort.
“Look at the bright side. Maybe you can use the time that he’s not around to focus on yourself? You know? Maybe do something you like to do like go to yoga or learn to knit or… talk to a therapist?”
Kelly’s lips tighten, and she takes a bite of her jello. Was I too on the nose suggesting that she go to therapy?
At least I didn’t flat out tell her to go to the police.
As we eat our jello in silence, I hear a song playing from someone’s phone.
“Oh, my gosh.” I roll my eyes.
Kelly looks at me inquiringly. “What?”
“That song has been playingallday. The nurses are walking around listening to it. and while I was waiting for you here”—I tap the table—“I heard it coming from literally every phone that passed by.”
Kelly’s jaw drops and she smacks the table. “No!”
I jump in fright.
“No, you didnot. Have you not heard that The Kings dropped a new song last night?”
My eyes widen. What?
I normally get notifications about everything The Kings are doing. Why didn’t I know that?
Kelly scrambles to her feet, drags out the chair directly next to me, and falls into it. She crowds my space, holding her phone out. “You have to see it. As my friend, Icannothave you living under a rock. It’s my civic duty to tell you about The Kings.”
Before I can clear up the misunderstanding, she drags out her earbuds, sticks them into my ears, and presses play.
The song that’s been echoing through the hospital all day fills my ears in crystal clear quality. I’m immediately sucked in as the guitar plays a soulful, yearning riff.
The Kings are known for their fast-paced party songs, but this melody is slow and tender. Dutch’s amazing vocals line the track as he rasps about loving someone.
“Your shadow’s my compass. Your breath is my flame.
I’ll tear through the darkness ‘til I hold you again.”
About halfway through the song, something wet splashes on my hand, and I put a finger to my face in astonishment.
I’m crying.
Kelly puts her hand on top of mine. I guess it’s her turn to comfort me.
“I heard their wives were kidnapped,” Kelly explains, pausing the music. “Everyone has been sharing the song. There are videos with people holding candles and putting up missing poster signs. They’re organizing search parties for whenever The Kings have a location. It’s going mega viral.”
Sniffing, I try to play the rest of the song, but Kelly’s phone lights up with an unknown number.
“Here, Kelly.” I hand the phone over to her.
“Thanks.” She scrunches her nose when she sees the screen. “Just a sec, J. Youhaveto finish the song. The last few lines are a total gut-punch.”
Kelly puts the phone to her ear and in a very professional voice says, “Hi, this is Kelly.” The happiness in her eyes drains away, and she grips the phone tightly. “W-what?”
My eyebrows hike, and I tune into her side of the conversation.
“No, there must be some mistake.” Kelly’s voice climbs in volume. “My husband hasn’t been home for a few days, but he would have told me if—” Her throat bobs nervously. “Let me talk to Shawn first. I want to hear it from his mouth.”
