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Rissa and I had always had a strong bond, only being a year and a half apart. And despite my life on the west coast and hers on the east, we always made time to talk. We joked about our psychic connection, often calling each other at the same time.
“Hey, sis, can I call you back at five when I’m on break? I’m just getting my makeup finished.”
“This can’t wait, Reed. Are you alone? Are you sitting down?”
Her voice was so low, barely a whisper. I knew immediately something was horribly wrong.
“Hold on.”
I placed my phone to my chest and politely asked the makeup staff to leave my trailer. Once they were gone, I put the phone to my ear again.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“It’s Mom. She—” I heard a sniffle and then a gut-wrenching sob. “She’s dead.”
Thank fuck I was sitting down because I was about to pass out.
“No. No, that’s not right. I just talked to her three days ago, what?—”
“Mom was driving to the gym early this morning,” Rissa choked out. “Another c-car hit her head on, they were driving in the wrong lane. They think it might… it might have been a drunk driver.”
No. This couldn’t be happening. Not to my family.
Not my mother. No.
“Rissa,” I gasped, refusing to believe what she’d told me.
But her sobbing grew louder, and there was no denying the truth.
I looked up, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I didn’t even realize that I’d started to cry until I saw the tracks of tears on my face.
“I’m going to book the first flight out,” I finally managed to reply. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Dad’s still in shock, they’ve given him a sedative. We’re at the hospital. Norwich General.”
“I’ll text you as soon as I land.”
I texted Henn first and then went in search of the production coordinator.
A half hour later, I was in a rideshare heading for LAX. And I didn’t care if the paps spotted me. If they dared to approach, I would scream bloody murder.
Nothing felt real.
I was numb. My brain, my heart, every part of my body.
I’m sure I talked to people at the airport, at security, but I don’t remember any of it.
All I knew was that the person who’d supported and loved me all my life was gone.
My vibrant, fifty-nine-year-old mom was taken from us. What would our family be without her?
When I landed in New York, there was a driver waiting for me. Henn, my rock, had arranged for it. Good thing too, because I was not fit for the almost two-hour drive north to Norwich.
I had sunglasses on to hide my swollen eyes and I was still shaking.
My phone buzzed and I sighed, not in the mood to deal with anyone.
Tate: Henn told me. I’m so sorry about your mom. Are you…
