of this was senseless, that I don’t need protected. But now that I’m here, I’m afraid to find out what’s true, afraid that maybe Holden wasn’t the one who was mistaken.
It’s a battle between my head and my heart, and I’m too exhausted to continue the fight tonight. I’m staring across the dark room at nothing, contemplating where I go from here, wondering if I even have enough cash to make it back to Arizona, when the silence is shattered by an abrupt noise. The shrill sound stalls my heart for a beat before I reach for my bag, shifting things around inside to pull out the old cell phone. I flip it open, staring at the screen as it rings.
Blocked number.
Holden .
His service-issued Blackberry doesn’t show up on Caller ID.
Before I can get my muscles to work again, before I can do anything, the ringing stops. I stare at the missed call, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
He shouldn’t even know I’m gone yet. He would be preoccupied with whatever business he had to attend to and wouldn’t have time to find out anything about me. But Holden isn’t one to call for nothing, and I know that. If he’s trying to contact me, there’s a reason.
Sighing, I close the phone and set it on the floor as I stretch out, laying my head down on my bag, using it as a makeshift pillow. It’s uncomfortable, but I’m too tired to care, as I snuggle up against it, pulling my arms up into the hoodie and wrapping them around myself.
Cody’s hoodie.
It stopped smelling like him a long time ago, but I close my eyes and inhale anyway, trying to conjure up his scent. But all I breathe in is the dust coating the room, the stale smell from the place being vacant for so long, no air circulating. I lay there, breathing steadily, eyes squeezed shut, hoping the memories will be enough to keep me warm as I wait for morning.
I don’t know when it happened, but at some point I drift off, because I’m jarred out of a deep sleep by the shrill ringing once more. My eyes open, and are immediately met with light. Ugh . It’s morning sometime and the sun is shining just bright enough to highlight the empty room around me.
Sitting up, I cringe at the crick in my neck, my back stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. It’s cold, even with the window closed, a cloud of breath surrounding me as I reach for my phone. I pick it up just as it stops ringing, knowing exactly who it’s going to be, and stare at the thing as it starts making noise again right away.
On the third call, back-to-back, I press the button and bring the phone to my ear. My heart beats wildly but I try to play it cool. “Hello?”
Holden, always so composed, is calm no more. “Where the hell are you? Tell me right now! I need to know!”
“I, uh … I’m at home.”
“Don’t lie to me, Grace, goddammit,” he shouts, and the line is cracking up, but it’s clear enough to detect the sheer panic in his voice. “This is serious. I know you hopped a plane. I know you’re in New York. People have seen you in New York. This isn’t the time for games!”
“I’m not lying,” I say. “I’m at home.”
A second of silence passes—that’s it, just a second—but the silence screams louder than any of his words. Holden always knows what to say, how to handle situations, but I’ve rendered him momentarily speechless.
Even for a second, I know it’s too much.
I’m on my feet in an instant, swaying from a bout of dizziness, my heart beating way too fast as his voice finally kicks in. “Get out of there, Grace! Get out of there right now! Run as fast as you can. And hide . Hide somewhere where nobody can find you. You hear me? I need you to understand.”
“I hear you.”
“Good,” he says. “ Run .”
The moment he says the word, I hear noises in the hallway outside the apartment door. My vision blurs from panic, the phone hitting the floor. Turning, I rush to the window, shoving it open, the loud groan echoing through the apartment. The
It’s a battle between my head and my heart, and I’m too exhausted to continue the fight tonight. I’m staring across the dark room at nothing, contemplating where I go from here, wondering if I even have enough cash to make it back to Arizona, when the silence is shattered by an abrupt noise. The shrill sound stalls my heart for a beat before I reach for my bag, shifting things around inside to pull out the old cell phone. I flip it open, staring at the screen as it rings.
Blocked number.
Holden .
His service-issued Blackberry doesn’t show up on Caller ID.
Before I can get my muscles to work again, before I can do anything, the ringing stops. I stare at the missed call, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
He shouldn’t even know I’m gone yet. He would be preoccupied with whatever business he had to attend to and wouldn’t have time to find out anything about me. But Holden isn’t one to call for nothing, and I know that. If he’s trying to contact me, there’s a reason.
Sighing, I close the phone and set it on the floor as I stretch out, laying my head down on my bag, using it as a makeshift pillow. It’s uncomfortable, but I’m too tired to care, as I snuggle up against it, pulling my arms up into the hoodie and wrapping them around myself.
Cody’s hoodie.
It stopped smelling like him a long time ago, but I close my eyes and inhale anyway, trying to conjure up his scent. But all I breathe in is the dust coating the room, the stale smell from the place being vacant for so long, no air circulating. I lay there, breathing steadily, eyes squeezed shut, hoping the memories will be enough to keep me warm as I wait for morning.
I don’t know when it happened, but at some point I drift off, because I’m jarred out of a deep sleep by the shrill ringing once more. My eyes open, and are immediately met with light. Ugh . It’s morning sometime and the sun is shining just bright enough to highlight the empty room around me.
Sitting up, I cringe at the crick in my neck, my back stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. It’s cold, even with the window closed, a cloud of breath surrounding me as I reach for my phone. I pick it up just as it stops ringing, knowing exactly who it’s going to be, and stare at the thing as it starts making noise again right away.
On the third call, back-to-back, I press the button and bring the phone to my ear. My heart beats wildly but I try to play it cool. “Hello?”
Holden, always so composed, is calm no more. “Where the hell are you? Tell me right now! I need to know!”
“I, uh … I’m at home.”
“Don’t lie to me, Grace, goddammit,” he shouts, and the line is cracking up, but it’s clear enough to detect the sheer panic in his voice. “This is serious. I know you hopped a plane. I know you’re in New York. People have seen you in New York. This isn’t the time for games!”
“I’m not lying,” I say. “I’m at home.”
A second of silence passes—that’s it, just a second—but the silence screams louder than any of his words. Holden always knows what to say, how to handle situations, but I’ve rendered him momentarily speechless.
Even for a second, I know it’s too much.
I’m on my feet in an instant, swaying from a bout of dizziness, my heart beating way too fast as his voice finally kicks in. “Get out of there, Grace! Get out of there right now! Run as fast as you can. And hide . Hide somewhere where nobody can find you. You hear me? I need you to understand.”
“I hear you.”
“Good,” he says. “ Run .”
The moment he says the word, I hear noises in the hallway outside the apartment door. My vision blurs from panic, the phone hitting the floor. Turning, I rush to the window, shoving it open, the loud groan echoing through the apartment. The
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