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There area lot of things you're prepared for when growing up. Like how to be a decent person, given you have the right upbringing, or how you're supposed to get a job after you're done with schooling. All parents seem to have the same hopes and dreams for their kid—to grow up, find a good job and a good partner, and settle down to have a family. One thing my parents failed to do, though, is teach me how to put together this fucking crib.
The instructions are in another language, and the pictures must be backward because none of the holes are where they say they are. Not only do I have to make something out of these pieces of wood, but I have to make sure it's sturdy enough for my son to sleep in.
Baylor sleeps soundly next to me as I struggle with the directions, tossing them down for the thousandth time today. As I drop the tiny little tool they give you, which is bullshit in itself by the way, he lifts his head to look at me.
“What am I going to do, boy?” I ask him.
He stares back at me like I'm crazy, and I sigh.
Kennedy deserves the perfect fucking nursery, and I'm going to give it to her. Even if it means losing my mind while putting all this shit together.
I'M FINALLY SLIDING THE last drawer into the changing table when Amelia comes in. She looks around in complete awe as she takes in the state of our former guest room. There have been a few people who have slept in here over the last couple years, Amelia and Tessa being two of them. But this, with a crib and changing table and other baby decor, is the most right it's ever felt.
“You did all this?” she asks me.
I nod. “Baylor wasn't much help.”
She chuckles and bends down to pet the puppy that's now getting too big to be called such. “It looks great, E. Does Kennedy completely love it?”
“She hasn't seen it yet,” I answer. “I just finished it. I was going to surprise her with it tonight.”
Her brows furrow as she tilts her head to the side. “Two surprises in one day? You're really stepping up your game. What was the first one?”
I tilt my head and frown. “What do you mean? What first one?”
“The text,” she clarifies, as if I should know what she's talking about. “I was there when she got it. The one that said for her to meet you at the lake.”
“What fucking text, Amelia?” Panic starts to course through me as I grab my phone and try to call Kennedy. “I never sent her a text, and I sure as shit never told her to meet me at the lake.”
“Oh my God,” my sister gasps.
As she freaks out, I listen to the ringing in my ear and wait for Kennedy to answer, mentally willing her to pick up the damn phone. When it goes to voicemail, I try again.
Still nothing.
“What the fuck did it say?” I question urgently.
She's shaking as she starts to cry. “It came from your number. It said to meet you at the lake and that you had a surprise for her.”
“Fuck!”
“E, this was at least six hours ago,” she says, and my whole body goes still.
Zayn comes into the room and sees the state of us. “What's going on?”
I go to open my mouth but nothing will come out. No words. No sounds. Nothing. Kennedy is out there somewhere, and I can't fucking move. I can't even breathe without a pain shooting through my chest.
“K-Kennedy is in trouble,” Amelia says through her tears. “We don't know where she is.”
Z holds Amelia in his arms but his eyes meet mine, and we're both thinking the same thing. Finally, the hold on me releases and I jump into action, grabbing my sister's arms.
“How did you find out where Zayn was when he left to go fight Blade?” I ask her.
She swallows. “I tracked his phone through iCloud, but I knew his password.”
Not even paying attention to the last part, I rush to my room and grab my computer. It comes to life as soon as I open it and I rush to the iCloud website. Kennedy's email is easy enough, it's the same thing for everything. But her password, however, is a challenge.
My fingers move a mile a minute as I try to put in anything I can think of, but it's all coming back invalid. Soon, it's going to lock me out. But as I go to type in my last attempt, Amelia comes running in.
