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Chapter Twenty-Five
Nate didn’t takethe news well—the migraine-memory or me passing out. Again. He made up some emergency in the office and got everyone on the jet within the hour. From the moment George told me he’s on his way back, I haven’t been able to sit still. He is bringing too much attention to himself. What if Margot checks with Hank again? She’s been annoyed for days. She could follow him here. She’d find me, and Nate would have to turn himself in sooner. My thumb won’t stop flicking against the rest of my fingers. Back and forth, back and forth.
In an attempt to distract myself, I go to the theater room and turn on a movie. It doesn’t work; I couldn't tell you what the movie is about if I tried. My mind constantly goes back to Rhys. Is he right? Has my running put everyone more at risk? Should I let him come to LA? We could spend spring break together, and he could get to know Nate. A flutter in my chest makes me smile. Then, a new picture flashes in front of my eyes: Turner waiting for Natty during school. But that's not where the images end: Turner running Wes off the road with his car. Turner following Rhys to the airport and coming to LA, exposing where I am. Or Turner hurting Rhys when he refuses to tell him where I am. Each scenario is worse than the next until I’m covered in sweat and am sitting bent forward, clutching my stomach with both arms. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
That's all I do until my brother finds me. The door flies open, and Nate scans the room. When his eyes settle on me, he's at my side in three strides. Crouching down, he gently forces my chin up with his hand, and we lock eyes.
"Talk to me, sis." His careful tone is my breaking point.
The tears I’ve been holding in spill over, and I press my mouth together.
"Lilly." My name is just a whisper of a sound.
I let my lips part, and that's it. All my worries spill out. I word-vomit everything. The memory, the phone call with Rhys, my fears about Turner, and all the fucked-up scenarios I’ve cooked up in my head in which he kills off everyone I care about.
I’ve gone off the deep end.
Nate listens to all of it, not interrupting me once. When I'm running out of steam, he gets up from his crouch and sits down next to me.
"I'm so sorry you are going through all of this because of me." His arms wrap around my shoulder, squeezing me to his side.
My eyes flutter closed, and I lean against him. I'm emotionally drained. "I'm going to lose him, Nate," I mumble, sinking further against my brother.
"You won’t," he soothes me, the words just a murmur.
I blink against a flickering light.
Where the hell am I?
I try to move, but an arm holds me in place. What the—? Slowly adjusting to the brightness, I’m able to open one then both eyes and glance around. I’m still in the media room. On the screen plays a muted action movie, bright explosions being the reason for my temporary inability to see. My head is fuzzy, and my eyes burn from my crying spell. Turning my head to the side, I take in Nate’s slumped form—he’s out like a light. I carefully disentangle myself from his large frame and move into the hallway, closing the door behind me quietly.
I tap the screen of my phone. It’s 4:21 a.m.—past seven in Westbridge. I stare at the clock for a whole minute before I make my decision. Screw it. Before I can stop myself, I pull up the recent call log and click on Rhys’s name. It rings five times, and with every beep, my heart rate increases. He’s not going to answer.
"Calla?" Rhys’s groggy voice comes through the speaker.
"I’m so sorry," I begin to sob.
"Wha—?" He’s instantly more alert. "What happened?"
"I’m sorry I ran. I was so scared Turner would come after you. Natty can’t defend herself. I kept picturing him hurting you t-to g-get to m-me—" My words break off, and I lean against the wall opposite the theater, sinking to the floor.
The silence, on the other end makes my fear become a reality. I’ve lost him. I’ve kept too much from him.
"I...I’m not sure what to say, babe. I understand why you did it. I do. But—" He exhales slowly.
"B-but?" I hiccup, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth.
"I’m...pissed. I’m not gonna lie to you. You know that’s the one thing I’ll never do again. It’s supposed to be you and me. Together! But you don’t talk to me; you keep hiding things from me. I love you more than anything, but I... I can’t handle any more surprises. I don’t want to go to bed wondering if you’re still going to be there in the morning. Or be close to a heart attack every time my phone rings, thinking this time you’re gone for good. When you stopped screaming yesterday, I couldn’t breathe. It was discovering your crashed Jeep all over again. I thought you had died with me on the phone, and I couldn’t do shit about it."
Rhys’s tone is getting angrier the more he speaks, and the fear of him leaving me overtakes every cell in my body. You left him first, the voice in my head sneers at me. He has every right to break up with you.
My hands shake violently, and I can barely hold the phone up.
What have I done?
The door across from me opens, and Nate looks down, hair disheveled and with worried eyes. Footsteps from the other end of the hall alert me to George’s arrival. I’ve woken them both up.
I pull my legs close and let my forehead drop to my knees, ignoring the two men in the hallway with me. "Please don’t leave me," I whisper into the speaker.
