Frank startled awake, seeming confused to see me. “You’re still here?”
“You were only out a few minutes.”
“Shit. Stop wasting time I don’t have. Go tell her how you feel, jackass.”
“What if she runs?”
“Then you better promise to chase her.”
So I made a promise to a dying man. For the first time in five months, I had more than Day Zero on my horizon. I had a goal beyond surviving each day.
I had a plan.
DAY MINUS 2
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jamie
It was after one in the morning when I finally heard the car pull into the driveway.
I’d been restless, waiting for Dylan to arrive with Hunter, spending the past hour preparing Trina’s old room. But instead of easing my anxiety, it had unleashed an overwhelming sense of loss.
Trina and I were never close. A four year age difference and her relentless teen angst had created distance. But that hadn’t stopped me from missing her. From wondering what kind of relationship we might have had.
Would we have grown closer as adults? Would she have married, had children, pursued that fashion career she’d dreamed about? Questions that would never be answered. Her life cut too short.
Those faded memories left me drowning in melancholy. I missed what we’d shared. Even the hair-pulling fights and name-calling felt precious now. But what hurt most were the uncelebrated milestones that would never happen. Moments that would only ever exist in my imagination.
How was it possible to miss something I’d never had?
It might’ve just been an empty room, but being in it hurt.
Maybe it was because the walls were still the god-awful bubblegum-pink she’d begged Dad to paint them. The frilly white lace curtains Mom had sewn were still in the window. It looked identical to my childhood, like stepping back in time, except most of her personal things were gone and she wasn’t screaming at me to get out.
But it was her notebooks on the bedside table that nearly broke me. Those books were more like a diary than Trina ever admitted. She’d protected them fiercely, never letting anyone peek.
Seeing them now, dust-free and in a neat stack, made me wonder if Dad spent time reading her words, remembering the brilliant, beautiful, demanding daughter he’d lost.
Would it be wrong if I did the same?
Maybe I would, but not tonight. I couldn’t handle any more torment.
The room was ready—blue sheets closer to Hunter’s favorite shade, stuffed animals hidden in the closet. It was only a place to sleep, but I wanted him comfortable.
I wanted him home.
Dylan had called hours ago with details. Vanessa and Ron were shocked when Hunter’s father showed up instead of me. Apparently, they’d assumed I didn’t know who Hunter’s father was.
God, they really were assholes.
And they’d been even more surprised to learn Dylan was a cop. They felt compelled to explain their version of events, which didn’t match the official report Dylan got from his Toronto contact.
No shit.
At first, I’d worried I was naïve for trusting Hunter when he said it was a misunderstanding. Dylan’s report proved I wasn’t.
Vanessa and Ron blamed the entire incident on Hunter, when the store clerk reported it was Jackson who’d been caught stuffing candy in his pocket. Their handling of the situation proved that being older didn’t make someone a better parent. If you were an asshole, you’d be bad at it regardless.
