Quiet.
I take a bite, though it makes my stomach roll, and force it down.
“I know. And I will when we get home. I just have no clue what to say.”
He hums thoughtfully around his mouthful. “Start with how you feel.”
Nodding to himself like he just gave me the answer to everything, he shoves another bite in his gullet, and I scoff.
“You’re so smart, aren’t you.”
“Sure am.”
His smile is so wide, it makes his eyes crinkle, and for a moment … my best friend actually looks his age. Not like the recovering addict, the weathered survivor, I know him to be.
The next bite goes down even drier than the first.
“You are right about one thing.”
There are crumbs all over his chin when his arched brow wings my direction. “Wassat?”
“We don’t have to justsurvive.”
He stares at me for a long while, his eyes shining like he’s hearing the message for himself just the same as he delivered it to me before finally nodding.
“Let’s see what dispatch is up to. It’s been quiet.”
My agreement is silent as I stand and brush off my ass, handing over the last half of my sandwich to him. He swallows it in two bites and slams the doors closed, tapping on the faded122fondly.
“Tristen?Tristen!”
Stomach dropping at the panicked sound of my name from a familiar voice, I spin to find Bobbie running through the double doors toward us.
I meet her halfway, catching her by her biceps as her breath pumps like she just raced through the entire emergency department to get here. It’s the first time we’ve crossed paths since Em was here, and while a part of me is happy to see her, the look on her face has all of my internal warning bells blaring.
“Bobbie? What is it?”
My heart is in my throat when she grips me right back, her nails digging in and reminding me of Emmett.
Please don’t let it be something with Emmett.
I’ll never forgive myself if he’s in there and I didn’t know.
Fuck, what if he—
“Do you know where Emmett is? Have you seen him?”
“I … is he here?” She shakes her head and my brows furrow when her grip tightens. “He’s been staying with me—us. At the house. Didn’t he tell you?”
The shake of her head is somber.
Of course. He doesn’t have a fucking phone.
Guilt slams me and I’m preparing an apology when Bobbie shakes her head again like maybe she’s struck with disbelief.
“It’s Charline,” she chokes out, mist gathering in her eyes.
Everything stills, though I don’t know the name.
