Page 20 of Unbroken

I’d thought about it a lot—what would happen when I came back. I could use deductive reasoning and rationale to understand how they may react, but they were human. And guessing human reactions with any sort of accuracy was nearly impossible.

But when I considered it, most of the time their reactions began with shock and confusion. They were stunned speechless until one of them, likely Amanda or maybe James, spoke up and asked what the hell I was doing there. From there, each variation of the interaction was completely different ranging from quiet disbelief to deafening outrage.

And whatever their reactions were, they were valid. But the uncertainty of it compounded my nerves.

I’d been nervous for the past several weeks—since I moved back to Austin and decided it was well past time to reach out to my friends. Every time I’d thought about it or contemplated the proper wording, my nerves were almost debilitating.

Trying to decide how to tell them that, although all the evidence and information seemed to point to guilt, I wasn’t actually complicit in the plot to kidnap and murder one of them.

And that I hadn’t skipped town like they probably assumed.

Based on the little information they had, I understood why they would think that. I just hoped they gave me a chance to tell my side of the story.

I found Amanda’s address the day after I moved back, but it had taken me days to work up the courage to even drive by the house. It then took me more than a week to get out of the car. And four days after that, it was New Year’s Day, and I’d finally made it to the end of the walkway.

The past few weeks had been the roller coaster from hell, and it felt like I was poised at the top of the final, yet very tall, hill, preparing for the descent I knew was on the other side. I could feel that dropping sensation in my stomach already—before I’d even crested and before I saw how far the fall would be.

If anyone looked outside right now, they’d think I was a psycho stalker. I would have been a very bad stalker, standing out in the open, gawking at the house, but it would have looked unsettling nonetheless. Especially since if they did see me, they were more likely to think I was a ghost.

Another shiver whipped through me.

Glancing around the landscaped, expansive lawn, I noted each of the several cars parked in the driveway and on the street.

That was another reason why I’d stopped at the end of the walkway rather than going straight up to the door. All of the courage I’d worked to muster vanished with the realization that they were all likely in there. I should’ve known better than to try on New Year’s Day, but once I found the courage, I had to go through with it.

My goal was to approach Amanda. I guessed that she, out of the group of them, would be the most understanding and the most forgiving. We were arguably the closest two years ago, and I hoped that closeness was still worth something.

But I couldn’t bet on any of them being willing to hear my side or trust me. Even Devon—the thought of which made my heart ache.

If I went in there now, I’d be thrown into the deep end. All I could do was hope that my imagination was much worse than reality would turn out to be.

I stuck my hands in my coat and fidgeted with the cherry ChapStick at the bottom of the deep pocket while I considered the exact words I’d say. It was a question I’d been asking myself for so long: How do you reintroduce yourself to your best friends after you’ve been missing for the better part of two years?

It was a question I’d discussed with my therapist ad nauseam. And we’d come to the conclusion that you just have to do it. Maybe I’d start with “hi”?

“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath and walked the final feet to the door. If I didn’t do it now, I never would. And as terrifying as it was, it would be worth it.

I repeated the mantra to myself—it will be worth it; it will be okay—like it was a lifeline. And like I was going to convince myself it was true in a few slow steps.

I glanced to the left of the tall wooden door and then to the right. The doorbell looked original to the home, and I wassilently thankful they didn’t have a video doorbell. That way they couldn’t tell who I was until they opened the door. It would be harder to slam the door in my face.

I hoped.

My hand shook so violently as I reached for the doorbell that I missed it once and then a second time. I cursed under my breath, and on the third try, my finger slipped against the button, and I heard the bells chime from inside.

My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. Pounding like it was an Avenged Sevenfold song trying to find the beat, I began to turn around when I heard the lock click. Then the knob turned, and finally, the door swung open.

ELEVEN

Blakely

The womanwho opened the door had gorgeous red hair and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She was stunning, but I’d also never seen her before.

Panic that I’d gotten the wrong address began to set in.

“Hi…um…is this Amanda Allan’s house?” I somehow managed to ask, hoping like hell I was simultaneously both right and wrong.

“It is,” she said with a cautious smile. “Who are you?”

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