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The words don’t resonate with me.
I feel like I’m still trapped there in that room, rotting away on the putrid mattress.
15
SKYLAR
I’m released from the hospital two days later.
I slept most of the time, but I could occasionally feel a hand across my forehead or blankets being tucked under my chin.
I’m not sure if I can stomach seeing Landon or River after our fight.
I’m ashamed of how I behaved and what I said to them.
I threw a fit like a child and only proved them right.
What if they only felt obligated to look for me because that’s their job?
They could have been using that time to find April if I hadn’t gone missing.
Sure, they’ve visited at the hospital—but was it only out of guilt?
But then that doesn’t explain Vincent’s words or actions either.
It’s too much to think about, especially when I can barely stay awake as Tammy helps me gather my things.
More gifts have collected on the table, and I smile as I pick up another plush animal. This one is a black cat with a white mustache, wearing a tag that says WILSON.
I’ve always enjoyed stuffed animals. But the first time Jason came over, he scoffed at them when they were on my bed, so into the closet they went.
Almost thirty-year-old women don’t own stuffed animals.
“That’s from Landon,” Tammy says. “And the Siamese cat was from me.”
“They’re so cute,” I murmur. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t forget you liked them,” she says. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”
A pang of guilt hits my chest.
My smile fades. “I’m sorry,” I say suddenly. “I’m sorry she’s still missing.”
“Skylar,” Tammy chides. “Not now. Let’s get you home. All you need to focus on is getting better.”
“But—”
“I mean it,” Tammy says sharply, gripping my wrist. “One of my daughters is back. That’s all I need for now.”
I try my best not to cry.
I doze on the car ride home and only wake up when Tammy parks her car next to the curb.
“So, here’s the plan,” Tammy says, because she always has a plan. “Devyn will stay with you, and you’re not going back to work for at least two weeks.”
I open my mouth to protest. Thinking about the café got me through that terrible month. I imagined new macaron flavors and recited the names of different roasts of coffees in my head while promising myself that if I got out, I would throw myself back into the café immediately.
“But—”
