Page 89 of The Cost of Forgetting You

I end the call. My phone slips from my grasp, clattering into the floorboard. I make no move to pick it up.

“Delilah—” Tru starts.

“Just drive.” I close my eyes. The tunnel has only gotten longer and darker. I can’t even see his face anymore. If it weren’t for his firm grip on my hand, I’d be lost entirely. “I want to find my dad.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Delilah

Dirt spits into the air, thrown by Truett’s spinning tires. I spill from the truck before he’s even put it in park. There’s a bright red fire engine parked on our street, an ambulance idling behind it. The front door to the house is ajar. Roberta stands at the threshold, and for the first time since I met her, she looks disheveled. Uncertain. Her mouth is flat, her silver-streaked hair tied back in a low ponytail. When our gazes meet, her lips form a gentle smile, but it wavers at the edges, and my heart falters right along with it.

“Delilah!” She opens her arms for me, and I fall into the hollow she’s created. The door catches us, holding us upright. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise. We’re going to find him.”

She smooths a hand through my hair, and I shiver, drawing back. She’s blurry now. I can’t make out the fine edge of her pointed nose. The soft lines that caress her face. I blink, but it does nothing to combat the flood of tears.

“Where all have you looked?” Truett asks.

I turn in her arms to find him stomping up the front porch steps. His truck is parked haphazardly behind the ambulance. The driver’s side door still hangs open. He’s looking at a fireman, who I now realize is standing behind Roberta, observing our exchange with a piteous glance. It fills me with irrational rage. What good is his pity if he’s not doing something? Why is he here when he should be out there where my dad is?

“Chief Davidson.” The man, slightly older than my dad with a clean-shaven face and brown eyes, reaches out to capture Tru’s hand in a firm shake. “Police are en route from Foley to help. I’ve got the rest of my guys out in their personal vehicles searching town.” His gaze, the same shade as the dry earth at the end of winter, locks with mine. “The ambulance is here as a precaution.”

Tru releases Chief Davidson’s hand and places his palm gingerly against the base of my spine. It’s another point of contact, alongside Roberta’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, to anchor me in this world when I feel so untethered. I want to melt into it, but instead I simply meet his gaze and nod, hoping he understands how much gratitude exists in that gesture.

“Have you searched the woods around here?” Tru asks.

Davidson glances from Truett to Roberta and back, a deep rivet forming between his salt-and-pepper brows. “Well, no, sir. We haven’t. Since the vehicle is missing, we can assume?—”

“We can’t assume anything,” Truett bites out. His hand flexes against my spine. “What about the farm? Did anyone check my land?”

Davidson grimaces and Roberta’s mouth pops open in surprise. She narrows her eyes at the man and bites out, “Daniel, you know better than this.” She releases me, stepping back into the kitchen to retrieve her keys from her purse. “I’ll go. Delilah, you stay here in case your dad comes back. It’s going to stress him out having all these people in his space, so try to keep him calm and?—”

“I’m not waiting here doing nothing.” I glance up at Truett for reassurance, and his eyes glimmer with something I cannot name. Pride, maybe? I grip the front of his button-down firmly. “You’re going, right? I’m coming with you.”

His dimple pops as his lips form a knowing smile. His gaze seems to whisper, There she is.

Not pride, then. Recognition. Like for once I’m exactly who he remembers me being.

“Wait here, Roberta. We’re going to search the farm.” He laces our fingers together. “We’ll call with any news.”

I ignore the buzzing refrigerator, the rumbling engines, the timid remorse in Davidson’s stare. I focus on Roberta. On her steady hand brushing my shoulder as she whispers, “Be careful.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“Here, son.” Chief Davidson tosses a radio to Truett, which he catches in his empty hand. “In case you don’t have a signal. Let us know your location, and we’ll send the bus if needed. I’ll search the woods out front just in case.”

Tru jerks his chin in acknowledgment, and then we’re off, racing back toward the truck the same way we came. Our pounding footsteps and my galloping heartbeat pulse in perfect sync. It’s the only sound I can hear, even when I’m no longer running. Even when the truck roars to life and we’re barreling toward Truett’s property line. There’s still that steady thrumming to drown out all the fear and anger and hurt. A drumbeat to focus on. A song to lose myself in.

“What if we don’t find him before he gets confused? Or hurt?”

“We’ll find him.” Tru places his hand on the console, palm up, and I take it. His gaze finds the rearview mirror, and he shakes his head. “I can’t believe Davidson didn’t think to search around the house.”

“I mean, he’s right. Why take the car if he’s not going far?”

Truett arches an eyebrow. “The same reason we’re driving right now. The farm is huge.”

We launch over a pothole, and I leave my seat for a second too long. When I slam back down, the breath rushes out of me. “On behalf of your suspension, ouch.”

He smirks, but his eyes are tight at the corners. “Keep making jokes, Temptress. It’s much better than watching you suffer silently for the entire drive home and being unable to fix it.”

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