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“Not now, fucker.”
“But you—”
“Not now, dammit.”
Rafe scowls. “I’ve been asking for months, dammit. We look after each other. You said—”
“Fuck what I said. Fuck everyone.” My blood burns. My chest is tight. “I can’t look after anyone. So why don’t you fuck the hell off.”
Rafe’s mouth falls open. He pales. Then without another word, he turns around and gets back inside.
He didn’t punch me, as I thought he might. As I hoped he might, so that I don’t have to make that phone call and find out what I don’t wanna know.
My fingers tremble as I scroll through my contacts, find Matt’s number and hit ‘call.’ I reach into my pocket for my packet of cigarettes. Before I locate it, Matt answers.
“Zane.” His voice is rough as if he’s been smoking day and night. Maybe he has. “Hey.”
“Hey, man.” I try to swallow, but my throat is bone-dry. “How is everything?”
Silence stretches like elastic, longer and thinner, ever thinner, until I think my composure will snap along with it.
“Zane…” Matt’s voice cracks, and oh shit, no. No fucking way.
“Don’t,” I whisper. No, I don’t wanna know. I don’t want—
“It’s over. She’s dead. She went peacefully, in her sleep. You need…”
His voice is fading. The blood rushing in my ears is too loud. I need to sit down. I need to start running. I don’t know what the hell I need.
“… funeral,” Matt is saying. “Tomorrow morning, in Bolinbrook. The viewing is tonight.”
Tomorrow. The funeral. Emma’s funeral.
I try to speak, but no sound comes out.
“Zane, are you there?” Matt’s voice cracks again, and I close my eyes. I feel as if my head’s gonna explode.
“Yeah.”
“Will you come tonight?”
I nod stupidly, standing on the sidewalk, talking into my cell. “Yeah.” My voice barely comes out, scratchy and hoarse. “Yeah, I will.”
“See you later, then.”
The call disconnects, and I find myself standing, yet not really feeling my feet. Not feeling anything. Except my chest hurts. I look down, expecting to see a bullet lodged smack in the middle of it. A gaping wound. A hole.
But there’s nothing. Nothing on me to show what just happened. How much it hurts.
Emma.
I didn’t get to say goodbye. She was barely conscious the whole weekend I was there, and when she was, she didn’t say a word. She did smile at me once. I recall her smile, and my fists tighten.
Not fair. Not fair that she’s gone. She can’t be gone. She can’t be.
The cell casing creaks. I force myself to unclench my fingers before I break it, because... I stare at it blankly. Something I need to do.
Tell Ash. Or Rafe.
