Me: What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?
Bear: This morning. I wanted to tell you, I knew it might make you stay. But I know how important it is for you to do this.
Bear’s right. I think if he’d said something before I left then I’d have put off the visit to Sacramento. But I also know if I did that, and the Elliots found out that Rick had recovered, then they might hurt someone else to make me return.
Me: So how is he?
Bear: Not fully lucid yet. Talking nonsense, drifting in and out. But he’s awake. Doctors say it’s a good sign.
Relief surges through my brain. This is the news we’ve been waiting for.
Me: That’s… that’s great news, right?
Bear: Yeah. It is. Long road ahead, but he’s moving in the right direction.
I press my forehead to my free hand, letting the news settle.
Me: If you talk to him, tell him I’m glad he’s still here, even if he can’t understand you.
Bear: I will.
I swallow hard, then force lightness into my reply.
Me: We’ll be together again before you know it. I promise.
I type one last line.
Me: I’d better put the phone away. I’ll text you before I go to sleep.
Bear: Be sure to turn the phone off, so it doesn’t ring. Be careful. Every step.
Me: Will do, handsome.
Bear: And be careful. Don’t turn your back on those assholes.
Me: Got it. XOXO
I quickly power the phone down and slide it into my bag.
After finishing unpacking, I zip the suitcase halfway, tuck the baby blanket on top where I can reach it, and straighten the room just enough that it looks like I’m settling in for the long haul.
I jump when there is an unexpected knock at the door.
“Natalie!” my foster mother calls from the hall, her voice tight with irritation. “Come help with dinner.”
My chest tightens because it didn’t take them a hot minute to start assigning me chores. Though if I’m cooking, at least I know they haven’t poisoned the food. I push up off the floor and rush to open the door, even though I can hear her footsteps receding. When I step out of my room, I feel myself slipping back into my compliant, helpful old self.
Chapter 15
Bear
I stand in the hallway outside Rick’s hospital room with my hands shoved into the pockets of my cut, staring at the door like it might bite me if I open it. I’ve been in this hallway a dozen times since the crash, but today feels different. Today he’s properly awake. Not drifting. Not confused. Awake-awake and ready to ask questions.
Natalie’s been in Sacramento a week.
That fact sits heavy in my chest, like a weight I can’t shift no matter how many times I roll my shoulders. She texts when she can—just short updates—nothing that tells me she’s in danger. But nothing that tells me she’s found what she’s looking for either.
I don’t like not knowing where she is or what she’s doing. I like even less that I can’t go to her, but this is something she’s got to do alone.
