I lie on the ground, leaving the pursuit to the police that just pulled up behind me. Red and blue lights wash over the pavement, painting everything in alternating colors. I glance down at my smartwatch relieved when I see that, not only did I successfully alert the police that I needed help, but I was able to record the entire conversation I just had with Bailey. It’s a good thing I kept my voice note app handy since it’s easier to voice record my lists and memos than use a pen when my wrist is in a lot of pain.
An officer that stayed behind helps me up and starts to take my statement. My legs are shaky, adrenaline still coursing through me. And a few minutes later, the officersthat chased Bailey come back with him in handcuffs. His shirt is torn, and there’s dirt streaked across his face.
“You still can’t prove anything,” he shouts to me.
I can’t help myself. “Actually, I can,” I shout back.
This nightmare can finally end. Now all I need to focus on, is getting Devin back.
Chapter Thirty-One
Devin
“Devin?… Hey, you okay?”
“Huh?” I blink my eyes open, not even aware until now that I was falling asleep. The world comes back in fragments—the hum of tires on asphalt, the faint scent of Maya’s vanilla air freshener, the seatbelt cutting across my chest.
Maya glances at me from behind the wheel of her car, features pinched in concern. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m…” I touch my forehead. The skin there is clammy, cool despite the warmth pumping through the vents. I’m dizzy. Exhausted. Can barely focus my vision. The dashboard blurs, then sharpens, then blurs again like I’m looking through water.
It started while I was on the plane ride home, a bit of extra fatigue and that bone-deep weariness that I’ve learned to recognize as a warning sign. By the time I rolled my suitcase out of the airport, wheels catching on every crack in the pavement because I couldn’t steer straight, the possibility of a flare was becomingreal. Now, feeling like a melted stick of butter in Maya’s passenger seat, boneless and heavy, it’s a reality.
I turn to look out the window. We’re nearly at the bridge to Pine Island, the water stretching dark on either side, and everything is spinning, my plan for the evening going down the drain. I wasn’t even going to unpack after Maya dropped me off. I was going to find Oliver. Tell him I love him before I lose all the courage I’ve built up over these long days apart. Embrace the success or the failure that comes from spilling my heart out.
Not anymore. Now I can’t even keep my head up. “I think I’m having a flare.”
“Yeah,” she says softly, voice thick with sympathy. “You rest. We’ll be home soon.”
The rest of the drive passes in flashes. The bump as we cross onto the island. A turn. Another turn. The crunch of gravel. I’m only vaguely aware of her parking the car and opening my door, the cool evening air hitting my face. She helps me inside, one arm wrapped around my waist while I lean my full weight against her shoulder, where I collapse in bed and give up on trying to beat back unconsciousness.
Soft voices wake me, filtering through layers of sleep like I’m underwater. I open my eyes to a darker bedroom, the lamp in the corner providing the small amount of light that makes the shadows stretch long across the walls, and footsteps coming from the kitchen. “I brought chicken and vegetable soup,” Hannah is saying. “Does she like that?”
I try to sit up but instantly get dizzy and fall back against the cushions, the room tilting sideways. Alexis appears in the doorway, her baby belly even bigger than it was last week, rounded and prominent beneath her loose sweater.
“Hey.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“I need to talk to Oliver,” I rasp. My throat is dry, tongue thick.
The others—Flick, Maya, and Hannah—crowd into the room, Flick setting a cup of steaming tea on the bedside table next to me. The ceramic clinks softly against the wood. “You’re having a flare,” she says, crouching down so we’re eye level. “You need to rest right now.”
“I know.” I press my palm to my forehead, trying to ground myself in the pressure of it. “But I need to…”
There’s a traffic jam in my throat, all the words crashing and twisting together, piling up until I can’t get a single one out. I burst into sobs, the agony of it all shaking my chest and making me feel twice as bad. Each breath hitches, making my head pound harder.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Hannah sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight.
“It’s not,” I sniffle, accepting the box of tissues Maya hands me. I yank one out, then another. “I fucked things up with him. I didn’t even argue when he said that he’s not good enough for me. I just stood there staring at him like an idiot.” The memory of that moment burns—his face, the resignation in his eyes, my frozen silence. “I was going to see him right when I got home and now…” I suck in a labored breath, the crying making every flare symptom so much worse. My head throbs. My vision swims.
“Every hour I don’t see him,” I finish, wadding the tissue in my fist, “is another hour he has to convince himself that we should be broken up.”
“You’ll see him soon.” Alexis brushes hair back from my forehead, her touch gentle and cool. “Right now, you just need to focus on getting better. He’s not going anywhere.”
I shake my head, not so sure about that. What if our breakup has made him decide to leave Pine Island forever? What if he’s already packing, already making plans? “I need to talk to him. Where’s my phone? Someone call him.”
Flick bites her bottom lip, teeth pressing white into the pink. “Devin.”
Painfully, I push myself up to sitting, bracing one hand against the mattress. The room sways but I hold steady. “What?”
