Then I hear Lila's voice, and it's like a fist squeezing my chest.
"Hello?"
She sounds exhausted. Her voice is hoarse, like she's been crying, and I can hear the strain in that single word.
"Lila," I say, and my voice cracks a little as tears instantly flood my eyes.
There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and then a sound that's half gasp, half sob.
"Riley? Oh, my God, Riley, is that you?"
"Yeah. It's me."
"Oh, my God! Where are you? Are you okay? We've been looking everywhere. The police have been here. The FBI came to the house and asked us all these questions. Mom hasn't stopped crying in days. Dad barely sleeps. We thought you were dead. We thought someone took you and killed you and we'd never see you again."
Every word feels like a punch in the gut but I knew this was coming. I knew this is how they'd feel. Still, I have to take a few steadying breaths so she doesn’t hear that I'm crying. My being sad isn't part of our plan to cover things up.
"I'm so sorry, Lila. I'm okay," I say. "I'm safe. I promise."
"Safe? Riley, your car was found abandoned on the side of the highway and burned out. Your phone's been off for weeks. Nobody's heard from you. What the hell happened?"
I force myself to keep my voice steady and calm and reassuring even though my pulse is racing and my hands are trembling.
"I met someone," I say. "A man. He's so amazing, Lila. And he's so handsome. He found me on the side of the highway and the car just wasn't going to start, so he brought me to his cabin in themountains. Oh my God, you're going to love him." I can let my genuine happiness shine through because all of it's true. Rafe is amazing and I do love him.
The silence on the other end of the line lasts so long that I think the call might've dropped. Then Lila speaks again, and she's sniffling. She sounds angry.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Lila, it's the truth."
"No. That's not you. You don't just disappear. You don't abandon your car and run off with some guy you just met. You're the responsible kid. You keep track of everything and make sure everyone else is okay. So don't stand there and lie to me."
I swallow hard, and I can feel the guilt rising up in my chest, threatening to choke me.
"I'm not lying to you."
"Then prove it. Come home. Right now. If you're really okay, if you're really safe, then come home and look me in the eye and tell me this ridiculous story."
"I will. Tomorrow. I'll be there for Christmas."
"Tomorrow," she repeats, and I hear the disbelief in her voice. "You're really coming home tomorrow?"
"Yes. I promise."
"And this guy you're with—is he coming too?"
"Yes."
She makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and I can picture her standing in our parents' kitchen with her hand pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her face.
"This is insane," she says. "All of this is completely insane."
"I know. I'm so sorry for scaring you. I'm so sorry for everything." The mountain of guilt I've been trying to ignore feels like an avalanche over my heart right now.
"Sorry doesn't even come close to covering it, Riley. But I don't care. I just want you home. I need to see you. Mom and Dad need to see you. We all need to know you're really okay."
"I'm okay. I promise."
