Just… like that.
I don’t even have to call her back to know what she’s calling about. I feel it in my gut—I justknow.
My mother is dead.
I sink into the couch and stare at the floor, clutching my phone in my hand. My heartbeat is too fast. Too loud in my ears. My throat closes and my chest feels like I’ve swallowed fire.
I’d been on stage. My mother had been dying, and I’d been on stage playing fuckingFalloutlike nothing else mattered.
Just as I’m thinking things can’t possibly get any worse, my phone starts ringing again.
What the fuck now?
The name that lights up the screen is the absolute last one I expect.
Incoming Call:Lily Vance
I debate not answering. I’m not sure why I do. Maybe I just want one more reason to be pissed off.
“Grayson?”
Her voice is soft. Careful. It isn’t the callous, cold version of her I remember—but it still sets my teeth on edge.
“I know you don’t want to hear from me,” she says quickly, before I can change my mind and hang up. “I know you’re with that photographer girl, not that I’m surprised. But a hospital called me looking for you saying they couldn’t get ahold of you or your sister. I must still be listed as your emergency contact somewhere. Your mom… she passed away tonight. Even with everything that had gone on between us, I just felt like… I wanted to make sure you knew.”
“I know,” I snap before I can control myself.
Something about her mentioning Mia like she knows anything about my life now sends me into a blinding rage.
“I’m not trying to insert myself, I just—” she starts again.
“Just what, Lily?” I bite. “Thought you’d earn a few points for calling? There’s no points to earn. I don’t want this. I sure as hell don’t want it from you.”
“Grayson, don’t you think—”
“No,” I cut her off. “You don’t get to call me out of nowhere and pretend like what you say still matters. I don’t even know why I bothered to pick up this call.”
There's silence. It’s heavy. Awkward. Then, finally, she exhales.
“I’m sorry, Grayson,” she says. “Will you at least let me say that? I’m sorry. For everything. I was your wife once. I just wanted to make sure you got the message.”
“You can say it.” My voice is flat. Final. “Doesn’t make it mean anything.”
I hang up.
The phone drops from my hand and clatters to the floor between my feet. I don’t care if it breaks. Maybe it should. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to hear it ring again.
I sit in the dark, waiting for something—anything—that could bring her back.
Not Lily.
My mom.
I’d give anything for just one more conversation. One more interaction to make sure she knew the past didn’t matter—I forgave her. I loved her.
Then, the door opens. I barely register it, until I hear her voice.
The one voice that should make all the hurt go away.
