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Another pause, long enough that I stop what I’m doing. “Is my sister with you?”

I frown. “No, she went out an hour ago. Why?”

“She was supposed to pick me up.”

The smile disappears from my face. I look at the clock, I know exactly what time it is before I even read the numbers. She’s late.

She is never late. Not with him. Not ever.

“Maybe it took her longer to pick up her yearbook.”

“She didn’t answer when Edna called her either,” his small voice replies and I grip the edge of the counter.

“What do you mean?”

“I called her, I called two times.”

My stomach drops. She would’ve answered. No matter where she was, no matter what she was doing. She would’ve answered.

Blue jumps onto one of the stools and looks at me.

“My sissy is never late.” His voice is quiet now.

He’s right, she isn’t late, not for him, never for him actually. I’ve seen her leave St. Ellesta early for him. Cancel plans for him. Drive across town because he’d forgotten a school project. She built her entire life around making sure that little boy never felt abandoned.

She would crawl through broken glass before she willingly left him waiting somewhere wondering where she was.

Which means something happened. The thought enters my head before I can stop it.

Something happened.

“No, sweetheart.” Edna’s voice in the background. “Don’t cry.”

My chest tightens painfully. I close my eyes, for a second, I see her, laughing on my couch last night, kissing me under the rain, falling asleep with the cat curled against her side.

Then the image disappears, replaced by every story she’s ever told me, every nightmare, every panic attack, every trembling confession she’d forced herself to make.

“Listen to me,” I say, not recognizing my own voice. “Stay with Edna, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to call your sister.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll find her.”

I don’t know if I’m reassuring him or myself. The call ends. For several seconds, I just stood there staring at the screen. The house is completely silent and Blue looks at me confused. A soft questioning sound leaving him. Like he’s asking where she is too.

I swallow hard, then reach out and stroke his fur, and his purring starts immediately.

“Hey.” He pushes his head into my palm and I keep petting him. “She’s okay. Your mom’s okay.”

The cat closes his eyes and I leave a small kiss on his head as I pick up my phone and call her. Voicemail. I hung up. Call again. Voicemail. Again. Nothing.

By the fourth call my heart is hammering so hard it hurts. The fear is getting bigger now, expanding, filling every empty space in my head. Because there are explanations. There should be explanations.

Her battery is dead, or maybe she forgot her phone there and had a problem with her new car. Something unexpected.