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“I mean, I still have those things,” I continue. “But there’s a strength and a solid foundation of trust at the core of my heart.” I make a face. “I don’t even know if I’m making sense. I just don’t feel so alone anymore. I don’t have to be the girl that wonders if she’s worthy of being loved.”
To my horror, Devyn’s blue eyes turn glassy.
“I swear, if you start crying, I’m going to lose it,” I warn her.
But she drops her cleaning rag and pulls me into a hug. “I’m so happy for you!” she screeches, squeezing me hard. Her sweet, light scent fills the air, and I can’t help but smile at her.
“Thank you,” I say earnestly. “I appreciate it.” I squeeze her back, and tears are almost in my eyes when a low voice interrupts us.
“Skylar.”
I would recognize that voice anywhere, now. And that rich scent.
Vincent stands at the entrance to the café, dressed in dark jeans and a black sweatshirt. His blonde hair is mussed, as if he’s been running his fingers through it anxiously. Light stubble compliments his strong jawline.
I could never get tired of looking at him.
“Hi,” I breathe. “Is everything okay?”
But judging by the dark, almost smoky note to his scent, it’s not.
Dread fills my stomach.
“We have to go. Now.”
I look at Devyn, who looks up at me with a nervous smile. “It’s fine, Skylar,” she says gently. “We can handle it here.”
But judging by Vincent’s expression, something is off. Devyn can sense it too.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s going on, Vincent?”
His icy eyes pierce mine. “It’s April. They found her.”
I don’t even say goodbye to anyone.
I just grab my purse from the back and rush out of the café, taking Vincent’s hand as we hurry to his car.
They found her.
A lump forms in my throat, and I’m terrified to ask him the question that’s at the forefront of my mind.
“Is she?—”
“She’s alive,” Vincent confirms, but his lips are pulled into a thin line. “And she’s at the hospital already.”
She’s alive.
My best friend is alive.
A sound comes out of me that I don’t recognize. I don’t even realize I’m crying until my cheeks are wet from tears.
As we pull onto the freeway, Vincent reaches over and takes my hand.
“She’s alive,” he repeats to me. “She’s safe. No one is going to hurt her anymore.”
I weep, covering my mouth with my other hand.
“How bad is it?” I choke out.
