Page 129 of Freefall

“Mind if we turn the heat down?

“Sure.” TJ reaches for the dial. “You okay?” he asks without taking his eyes off the road.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I just got really hot all of a sudden.”

He glances at me before looking back at the road. “Probably the drive. These twisty roads can mess with people.”

I nod. “I’m not a huge fan of heights.”

My stomach gurgles, the contents threatening to make a reappearance. Come to think of it, I haven’t eaten since breakfast. No…that’s not right. I made PB&Js for Daisy and me before I dropped her off at my parents’ house. Or was that yesterday? My thoughts feel jumbled, like someone put them in a blender.

I blink hard.

The road ahead swims for a second, then snaps back into focus. Oh God. Am I having a panic attack right now? Or…

No.

No, there’s no way.

Nate and I haven’t used condoms since that first time, but I’m on the shot now. It’s more effective than the pill. I try to remember when I had my last period, but I'm hit with a sudden rush of dizziness.

“TJ…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t…” I swallow, but it feels like there’s a cotton ball stuck in my throat. “I don’t feel good.”

He looks over, concern pulling his brows. “You look a little pale.”

My stomach lurches. “I think…” I press a hand to my belly. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Good thing we’re here then.” The truck rolls to a stop, and I immediately shove open the door and lean out, retching onto the ground. Nothing comes up, so after a minute or so, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and force myself to look up. I expect to see fancy SUVs. Kids. Parents. Maybe a nanny or other staff hurrying around. But…

There’s nothing.

No family, no cars, no staff. Just trees—oaks and maples swaying in the wind.

My pulse hammers against my neck. “Where is everyone?”

“They’ll be here.”

Something about TJ’s voice makes my skin crawl. It’s too practiced, like he’s reading from a script.

He walks around to my side to help me out, but the second I swing my legs out, the ground tilts beneath me. I grab the doorframe, but my hand slips.

“Whoa,” TJ says, catching me before I hit the dirt. His arm wraps around my waist. It’s warm and strong, like Nate’s.

Except it feels different—wrong.

“Careful, sweetheart.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I’m going to help you out.”

Sweetheart?

I try to pull away, but my body doesn’t listen.

“TJ…” I can hardly get his name out because my tongue feels like it’s swollen to twice its size.

The trees start to blur together into one blob of brown and green. The edges of my vision pixelate.