Sam drove to her favorite sushi place and ordered a rainbow roll and a side salad to go.
When he arrived at her office carrying Kayden’s surprise lunch, the receptionist greeted him with a smile. “Hi, Sam.”
“Hi, Torrie. Is it all right if I head back and drop this off for Kayden?”
Her expression dipped. “Oh. That’s thoughtful of you. And it would be all right, of course, to take it to her.” She fidgeted. “Except that Kayden doesn’t work here anymore. She was ... let go. Her last day was Tuesday.”
It was Monday. Almost a week had gone by, and Kayden hadn’t told him that she’d lost her job. She’d been pretending that everything was normal. Getting up, getting ready, going to work.
They were so close—he’d thoughtthey were so close. The realization that she’d been lying impacted him like a body blow.
“I see.” He stood in the lobby of his girlfriend’s former firm, humiliated, stunned, afraid down to his bones because Kayden was everything to him. “Thanks for letting me know,” he’d said.
Even now, his relationship with Kayden was part of who he was. A large part that equaled years of his life. Her death had scarred him more than any other event. There was no way that Gen could interact with a version of him that hadn’t been marked by Kayden. And because of Kayden, he had no tolerance for lies. Even small ones.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d been lonely for a long time, which should have made him strong. But in some ways, it had made him weak.
The weakest part of him had come to care about Gen, despite his determination not to.
If he were a color, he’d be brown. But Gen was one hundred bright colors. She was feisty and outspoken and felt things deeply. He respected her gifts and her ministry. Her personality, her appearance, her profession—all were larger than life. When he was talking to her in his farmhouse or garden or restaurant, she drove every other person out of his head. Even Kayden.
He didn’t want to forget Kayden, especially because hecould notgo through what he’d gone through with Kayden a second time. The way he’d left things between him and Gen just now was for the best.There was no reason for them to communicate as much as they had been. With any luck, she’d leave soon. In the meantime, he didn’t want the stress she made him feel. He didn’t want the desire, either. Or the doubt or the amusement or the pleasure.
Good riddance.
Why, then, did his gut twist like a sponge at the thought of her leaving?
Luke
I grip the phone hard. I’ve been talking for a long time now. First to my mom, then my dad. They’re panicking and at the same time trying to stay calm. I know they’re terrified for Ethan. I know because I’m terrified for Ethan.
Mom had Misty River’s sheriff call me. The sheriff contacted someone who called and said he was a specialist in urban search and rescue. After that, I talked to someone with the United Nations. Then to someone in San Salvador, who was hard to understand.
Now I’m talking to my dad again, and I’m clinging to his voice because my phone is almost out of battery.
I can’t lose this connection. I can’t lose him.
“Son, Mom and I are going to fly down there. We’ll arrive tonight, and we’ll make sure the authorities get you out of there as soon as possible.”
“Okay.”
“You and the other kids just need to stay safe and wait. Tell them to hang on—”
Silence.
No! Please, please, no.
The other kids stare at me.
I look at my phone. The screen has gone dark. No more battery. No more communication with the outside world.
Chapter Twelve
The second Genevieve woke the next morning, a bad feeling expanded in her chest. The next second, she knew why. Her argument with Sam.
Dr. Quinley had been suggesting that she spend time daily on introspection. Genevieve preferred action to introspection. Especially in recent months, because introspection forced her to confront the wrong turns she’d taken, the fraudulent persona she’d built. Which, unfailingly, submerged her in guilt.
Yet, her Oxy dependency had to do with several complex things—pressures and fears and hurts. All of those had joined together to open the door of the cage where she’d trapped the childhood trauma of the earthquake, which had come snarling out, bringing with it flashbacks and nightmares.
