She waits, listening, her eyes narrowing when the line stays silent. After a beat, she lowers the phone.
“He’s not answering.”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, trying to sound steadier than I feel. “I’ll walk. Or run.”
Kym looks at me then, her brows pulling together slightly.
She doesn’t comment though, just presses another contact and lifts the phone back to her ear.
This time, it doesn’t even ring once before someone picks up.
Kym exhales. “Yeah, it’s me.”
There’s a pause, and then she makes a face like she’s already regretting this decision. “No, I don’t even—” She cuts herself off, squeezes her eyes shut, then forces her voice to calm. “I’m at Lilia’s. I presume you know the way?”
Another pause. Then she hangs up.
Her gaze flicks to me. “Will’s on his way. Twenty minutes.”
***
Exactly thirty minutes later, I’m sitting in the backseat of Will’s Aston Martin. If it weren’t for the fact that my nerves are shot and my stomach is somewhere near my throat, I might have noticed sooner just how bad the tension is in here.
Will and Kym have been arguing for the past twenty minutes.
And I want to combust.
“So,” Will says suddenly, voice dripping with false lightness. “You finally called. What’s the matter, miss me?”
Kym lets out the kind of laugh that’s just air, no humour in it. “Yeah, like a rash.”
His grin flickers in the rearview mirror. “Good to know I still get under your skin.”
“You’ve always been good at that,” she mutters, arms folded so tight across her chest I’m surprised she can breathe.
I stare hard out the window, praying for literally anything to distract them. A bird. An alien abduction.
Will hums, like he’s satisfied with himself. “Could’ve fooled me, though. You sounded almost desperate on the phone.”
“You’re imagining things. Again.”
Will’s smirk deepens, just enough to make me want to crawl out the window. “You always were terrible at hiding things.”
Kym doesn’t even look at him. “Pathetic is you thinking anyone wants you here.”
The smile on his mouth doesn’t shift, but I catch the twitch in his knuckles against the wheel. “Still bitter,” he says lightly. “Cute.”
She finally turns her head, just enough that I can see the edge in her profile. “Still breathing. Unfortunately.”
I press my side of my forehead to the window, contemplating just opening this door and walking the rest of the way.
Will mutters, “Maybe you should just keep quiet.”
“Maybe you should’ve stayed gone.”
Will’s smile doesn’t slip, but his grip tightens on the wheel, leather creaking under his hand.
I shut my eyes, wishing the road would swallow us whole.
