When sleep didn’t come after another hour of tossing and turning, I finally gave up. I argued that I just needed to put my mind at ease.
It was impossible for Nix to have found and taken Honor. I knew that it was. And Ryder being gone was an even bigger impossibility.
Still, I had to find out for sure. I had to be positive or I was going to end up doing something stupid.
I crawled out of bed and walked to the small kitchen that consisted of a mini fridge, two-burner stove-top and microwave. My clean feet picked up the sand I’d dragged in earlier and hadn’t cleaned up yet. Drifting in from all of my open windows, the morning air was cool on my skin.
In the kitchen, on top of the few cabinets that hung next to the sink, I kept my only lifeline to my old life. I jumped on the countertop and pulled my body up. The cabinets were sticky with dust and ocean air, but wrapped in a plastic bag in the far corner was a cellphone.
I let out a huff of impatient breath, frustrated with my weakness and fear. I grabbed the phone, jumped back to the peeling linoleum and forced my fingers to work.
I pulled the phone from the baggie and plugged it in. I hadn’t even bothered to charge it after I’d bought it. I didn’t want to tempt myself. I knew that if it was easily accessible, I would give in. I would make calls, I would check in, I wouldn’t stay anonymous.
But I hoped that if I had to go through the work, like scaling my kitchen and waiting for a charge, I could talk myself out of ruining my only chance at any kind of future.
I had been right.
This wasn’t the first time I’d stared at this cellphone. This wasn’t the first time I’d contemplated calling home just to hear familiar voices or make sure everyone was all right.
This was just the first time I could justify my actions.
Once the phone turned on, I took another few minutes to decide who to call first. In the end I settled on my mother.
She was the least dangerous for me. Nothing about her would draw me home, even if I found out Hermes had been telling the truth.
Who was I to judge the Fates? They probably had a great reason for wanting her.
Okay, I knew that wasn’t true. Their reasons were undoubtedly nefarious and evil. But it was my mother… my mother who had abused me my entire life under the disguise of protecting me. My mother who had handed me to Nix time and time again, who sat by and watched as one of Nix’s associates nearly beat me to death, who stood me before the Fates and a litany of other evil and expected me to fend for myself.
I dialed the international code and my mother’s cell and listened to the dial tone ring in my ear while my breath hitched in my chest. I had memorized this number and two others as soon as I’d left the States. I had regretted it until now.
Knowing the numbers made it so much harder to abstain from calling.
When her voicemail picked up instead of her voice, I tried again. And again and again. She never answered.
A half hour later, I found the courage to call Smith.
He didn’t answer either. In fact, his phone never even went to voicemail. It just rang and rang until the recorded operator voice informed me that his voicemail had not been set up yet.
Anxiety rocketed through me and I started to doubt my refusal to join Hermes. Had he been telling the truth?
I didn’t hesitate to call the next number this time. Fear pebbled my skin and froze my lungs. I had to know.
The phone rang three times before a gravelly voice picked up. “Hello?” he said.
I tilted the phone, so my mouth wasn’t near the mouthpiece and exhaled slowly.
“Hello?” Ryder demanded. His voice was rougher than usual and I realized I had probably woken him.
Images of him tangled in his sheets, his eyes sleepy, his wild hair more tousled than usual shot through me and I had to close my eyes against the sensation. Tears pricked at my eyes, spilling over a second later as I listened to him breathe.
God, how long had it been? Only months. Almost a year, but not quite.
It wasn’t such a long time, but right now it felt like eternity. Suddenly my freedom turned into purgatory and my escape became a prison sentence.
I had fled to protect him, I reminded myself. I didn’t stay here for me. I stayed here for him.
“Ivy?” his voice hitched with something dangerous. I wanted it to be hope, but I couldn’t lie to myself in this moment. I was too low.
