“Kenzie.”
She sighs in answer, shifting to work on my other nipple. I fight to keep my eyes from rolling back.
“Kenzie.” I hook a finger under her chin, and she goes still after glancing up at my face.
I want her—maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything—but I also want her to know how I feel. I didn’t finish telling her before, and if we’re going to do this, I want to be brave enough to let her know what it means to me.
“I need to tell you something.”
She straightens up a little on top of me, her hair hanging loose and wild around her face. The sweet scent of vanilla fills my nose and makes it hard to think, but I force myself to take a deep breath.
“I don’t want this to stop, Kenzie. Whatever it is, I—I want more. I know I’ve just told you I’ve hardly ever wanted more in life, but with you, I...”
Her eyes search my face as I search for the words, for the right way to tell her this isn’t about a scholarship anymore. I don’t care who wins.
I just want her.
I’m about to tell her exactly that when a low buzzing sound fills the room, vibrating through the floor from a few feet away. It takes me a couple seconds to realize it’s her phone in her cardigan’s pocket.
She glances over at it, and even in the dim lighting, I can see her face go pale.
“Kenzie?”
She stays frozen like a statue for a few seconds before she climbs off me and crawls to her cardigan, yanking on the sleeve to pull it closer. She whips her phone out, worry lines creasing her face.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as I sit up.
My head spins, still trying to catch up with the past few moments.
“My brother is with my mom. I told him to only text if something was wrong. He...”
She trails off as her eyes rake over the phone, her thumb pressed to the screen. The white light is harsh against her skin, and it makes her expression look even more eerie as her eyes get wide and her bottom lip trembles.
“Kenzie, what happened?”
“It’s from my mom,” she whispers, her voice so low I have to crawl closer to hear. “It’s...it’s Chris. Something’s wrong with him.”
CHAPTER 18
KENZIE
Moira floors the gas pedal of the station wagon, aiming at the intersection where a yellow light cautions us to slow down. The signal switches to red just as we fly over the crosswalk, but I don’t even blink. I don’t even register what street we’re on.
I just know we need to go faster.
Faster. Faster. Faster.
My brain chants the word like it’s a magic spell that can ward off the crushing wave of guilt and horror threatening to break and drag me under.
I shouldn’t have left her, and I definitely shouldn’t have left her with him.
My mom asked me to stay with her as I was walking out the door tonight. She’d been doing better for weeks. She’d been getting up on time in the morning and hadn’t missed any shifts at the hotel. She even made me breakfast today, and we sat eating toast and scrambled eggs while she asked me about my scholarship with a clear, bright voice I hadn’t heard in months.
But depression is like that. It lurks like a shadow in the corner, ready to steal in and darken the whole room.
She slept for the rest of the day today. She said she was just tired from work, but when she woke up from her nap, I heard the fear in her voice when she asked me to stay.
Just for an hour.