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One of my emergency sketchbooks is tucked in a bookshelf by the window. A new package of charcoal pencils falls to the floor when I tug the book out of its place. My throat aches with relief, and with guilt, and with this one small thing my brother did for me.
He put them here while I was missing. It might as well be a prayer candle at the altar of his church. A physical representation of hope.
I blink back tears and take the book and the pencils to the sofa, where I pull my favorite blanket over my lap. Snow falls outside in Leo’s courtyard against the night sky. A fire burns in the grate. This room feels more like home to me than my parents’ house. More, sometimes, than my apartment.
It makes me feel like the world’s biggest asshole to be missing Emerson’s house right now.
The outline of Emerson’s beach takes shape on the page. Waves crash in the distance. I don’t usually focus so much on the shore, but I can’t help it.
I don’t expect to be alone for long, and I’m not. Eva knocks on the door first. She has a can of Diet Coke in her hand. She shakes it a little, which is what she does when she’s stressed.
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah.” I sketch another line, barely thinking. Not wanting to think. “It was too weird in the living room.”
“I know. Whoever decorated that room should be fired.” A joke. She’s the one who picked the furniture and probably everything else, too. Eva sits on the sofa at my feet and pats them under the blanket. “How are you?”
This is the thing that’s going to make me cry. Eva, trying to be cautious and casual when she’s been terrified. My instinct is to insist that I’m fine, but that’s not true, not really. I wasn’t hurt, but I’m not fine, either. My heart aches for too many reasons.
“I’m sorry. That’s how I am. I should have told you about Emerson. I’m sure Leo told everyone what happened.”
“Not quite. He gave Mom and Dad a very vague set of details.”
I drop my head back and close my eyes. “But the rest of you all know?”
“Yeah.”
“Just…if you’re going to hate me, will you tell me now?”
Eva taps her fingers on my knee until I open my eyes and look at her. “I don’t hate you, Daph. I was scared, but I don’t hate you.”
A lump grows in my throat. I add to the sketch without seeing it. “If you’re not, like, royally pissed at me, can I ask you something?”
“I’m not pissed. And you can ask me anything.”
“Was it terrible here while I was gone? I mean—” Tears blur my vision, but I don’t let them fall. “I saw all the flowers. I knew everyone would be worried. I didn’t realize the whole world thought I was dead.”
Eva taps her fingers on the Diet Coke can. “It was pretty tense.”
“How?”
“Mom and Dad didn’t believe you were missing at first. It took Carter and Lizzy landing in one of Lucian’s jets to convince them. The first two days were chaos because three separate search teams were coordinating from the ballroom. Four, once Carter landed.”
“What do you mean, four search teams?”
She looks up at the ceiling. “There were probably more, if you count the police-led ones. But you have four brothers. And each of them has their own parts of the city and their own people.”
“Oh, god.”
“Yeah. They only took breaks to strategize. And fight.”
“Who was fighting?”
“Leo and Lucian.”
“Over what?”
“The press conference.” She winces. “Did Leo tell you about that?”
