Being secluded and cut off from the world like this isn’t for the faint of heart. There’d been no time to prepare. Well, Ihadn’t had time.
Tom packed all the essentials for us—clothes and toiletries that were supposed to be readyjust in case. But that became a reality in the blink of an eye, and I didn’t even have a chance to tell my brother or Bailey I’m all right.
Do I really only have a couple of people that would care I’m gone?
My parents would probably just think I was busy and call Colt to get an update. They might be worried, but it’s unlikely they’d send out a search party.
Hazel might be the only other person that would notice I’m not responding but maybe not. It’s not like we talk every day. Not now at least.
I feel like I’m wearing a path into the wood floor as I pace back and forth in the kitchen, restlessness making it impossible to sit and write in the notebook Tom gave me or plot anything.
It’s on what feels like my hundredth time passing the fridge when a small Post-it note catches my eye with Royce’s name and a phone number next to it. And because desperation has overridden all rational thought, I grab the landline and dial, an unhealthy amount of relief flooding through me when he picks up on the second ring.
“Royce?” My voice has a frantic kind of hope I’m sure makes me sound as frazzled as I feel.
“Kat?” he asks, surprised, “how did you get this number?”
“It’s on the fridge.”
He chuckles. “Of course it is. What can I do for you?”
“I have nothing.No phone, no internet. Royce, he gave me a pen and a notepad to write my story in. A notebook. Do you know how chaotic that is?So many arrowsand cross outs and do you know how humbling it is when you don’t have autocorrect? Apparently, I have no idea how to spell anymore.”
“I miss the cabin,” he says wistfully and I gasp, pulling the phone away from my face to stare at it accusingly as if Royce was there and not just the receiver.
“Royce.”
“What do you need, Kat?”
“A way out?”
“No can do.”
I knew he couldn’t but I needed to ask—not that I have anywhere to go right now. And I know I should be thankful to be safe and…whatever this is, but I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin right now.
Because I’m bored.
And anxious.
And scared out of my mind.
But I don’t say any of that.
“I made a list.”
“A list…” he repeats skeptically.
“A list of things to do.”
“Oh, I can’t wait, whatcha got…” He doesn’t bother hiding his amusement, and I already hear his fingers tapping on his keyboard. Is it weird that I’m jealous of his keyboard?
Tom is buying me a keyboard after this.
One of those pink ones that looks like a typewriter but can sync with a tablet or whatever.
I scribble a note with a couple of stars for emphasis on the top of my paper, so I don’t forget.
I am losing it.
