Page 17 of Unbroken

She was quiet for a beat, and I could feel her eyes boring into the side of my face. I usually kept my emotions locked up tight, and that moment wasn’t any different. But she looked at me like she was trying to decipher my thoughts and feelings without any clues.

“What’s her real name?”

My chest tightened, and the sensation worked its way up my throat until my tongue felt like it was three sizes too big for my mouth. “Blakely,” I somehow managed to say.

Piper nodded, not sensing the strain behind the name. “Blakely,” she repeated, and I hit the brakes harder than I meant to. Her seat belt locked, and my hand reflexively shot out to brace against her.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“No problem. This traffic sucks,” she said. Silence stretched between us, the only sound the low hum of the music filtering through the speakers and the heat still pumping through the car.

I hoped that she’d asked all the questions she had on the topic, but I couldn’t be so lucky.

“So, Blakely’s still missing? You haven’t talked about her, so I’m assuming you haven’t heard from her?”

Taking a deep breath, I said, “Yeah, she’s still missing.”

“Wow, two years is a long time. Do you?—”

Her words abruptly cut off, and I realized it was because I’d inadvertently made a sound deep in my throat.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t?—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she said, readjusting in her seat and waving off my apology. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sure it’s rough on all of you. To lose a friend like that.”

To lose a friend like that. The words echoed in my mind and sounded worse and worse each time. I knew Piper didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but it hit me in the heart all the same. Like she was dead or we’d lost her like you do your car keys or wallet.

“Crap, I’m really messing this conversation up. We can talk about something else,” she said quickly. “Let’s talk about anything else, actually.”

She straightened in her seat and placed the casserole dish on the floorboard. Before I could say anything else, she continued. “The kid a few rows behind me on the plane pooped his pants.The smell was so bad a few people almost threw up. But the flight attendants were amazing, and they…”

She seamlessly jumped into the story and didn’t stop talking until we pulled up to Amanda, Josh, and Reed’s house.

I appreciated that she’d changed the subject when she did, but it was too late for my mind to focus on anything but that. Or better yet, focus on anything but Blakely.

The search still pulled up on my phone was taunting me every moment. A simple search of her name—it was the same every time and pulled the same results: none. Whether she knew it or not, Piper was right. We’d lost Blakely and had no idea the circumstances.

The way it seemed, Blakely had set Hazel up. Intentionally inviting her to lunch, only to lead her into Valerie’s waiting hands. Then she’d raced out of town without a trace. But the Blakely I knew—the Blakely we all knew—wasn’t capable of that.

We’d argued about it endlessly right after it happened. A few of us, including James and Luke, had been steadfast. That her actions were premeditated, and she was working in tandem with Valerie.

But as much as the evidence appeared to support their suspicions, I couldn’t believe it.

My mind was spinning, and I wasn’t getting anywhere. I hadn’t gotten anywhere in the last two years, I wasn’t sure what going over it again would help.

Piper’s small hand brushed against my arm, and I looked up at her soft, sympathetic expression.

The questions in her eyes were loud, but she didn’t voice them. “Ready?” she asked, and I nodded, hopping out of the SUV and walking around the rear to open her door.

I retrieved the chips and dip I’d brought from the back seat and took the casserole dish from Piper’s hands. She gave me an unimpressed look but didn’t argue. I waited for her to grab her purse and close the car door before we began up the walkway.

She slipped her hand into the crook of my arm and peered up at me through dark lashes. “We okay?” she asked as we stepped onto the porch.

I looked down at her and awkwardly bent down, trying not to drop everything in my hands, to kiss her.

“Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”

Pushing open the door, Sadie, Luke and Hazel’s golden retriever, was the first to greet us. She barreled around the corner, and I hurried to shut the door. She was a runner. Given the opportunity, she’d take advantage of it.

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