Page 66 of Reckless

Toothpick: You make it home okay?

Something inside me softens. Nobody has ever made checking that I’d made it home feel like a love language before.

Me: Yep. Piper’s already asleep.

A few seconds pass. Then…

Toothpick: Good.

That’s it.

Just… ‘Good.’

But somehow that one word says everything I need it to.

I set my phone on the nightstand, and when it vibrates again just after eleven, I reach for it without even looking, and the smile is already there.

I expect to see Ghost’s name.

But, I don’t.

Unknown: Your sister started her new job a week ago. The state contract her studio just picked up goes through Calloway’s committee. That contract can be canceled on a technicality. It would be a shame for her to lose it so soon after moving.

My stomach drops so fast I have to sit up on the edge of my bed.

I read it twice.

Then a third time.

My thumb hovers over the screen while my pulse hammers somewhere in my throat.

This isn’t Unsilenced anymore.

This isn’t the group home inquiry, or the families, or even me.

They found Piper.

They found the one thing I would burn every file I own to protect. So, I call the number back before I can talk myself out of it. It rings twice and disconnects.

My hands are shaking when I type out…

Me: Who are you?

And hit send.

The message shows delivered, but nothing comes back.

I sit in the darkness of my bedroom for a long time, phone gripped so tight my knuckles ache, waiting for an answer that isn’t coming.

The Next Morning

Outside Unsilenced in the parking garage, the car becomes a refuge for a full minute before I make myself get out. People smile as they pass me on their way inside, and I smile back. It feels like I’m wearing someone else’s face.

The text message sits in my pocket all the way to my office.

I’ve read it enough times to know every word by heart.

My director’s door is open, and she looks up when I knock lightly against the frame. “Sage.” She smiles. “Got a minute?”