Page 9 of You Belong With Me

“Wait.” I glance at my broken door. “I can’t leave with my door like that.”

Lucas pulls his phone out, and texts someone, his thumbs flying over the screen furiously. There’s a ping, and he types out a response, then shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Okay, someone will be here in five to replace it. He said he could use the same locks. Let’s go.”

Wow, okay.

Lucas drives, Gabriel in the front passenger seat with me stuffed into the tiny back seat. As we speed toward the Sherrif’s Station, I open my phone to call Gabriel’s mom, then realize I don't have her phone number.

“Gabriel, what’s your mom’s number?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how dumb that question is. Gabriel has amnesia, right? He doesn’t even remember who his mom is, let alone her phone number.

Lucas pulls his phone out, unlocks it with his thumbprint, and passes it back to me. “You’ll find her number in my contacts.”

Grabbing his phone, I scroll through his contacts until I find Gabriel’s mom, then I tap her number before I can chicken out. This is major news, obviously, and I’m not sure I’m the right one to deliver it—especially since I don’t have any real answers—but here we are.

The phone rings several times before going to voicemail. “Um, hi, Ms. Martelle, this is Wyn. Please call me back as soon as possible. I need to speak with you urgently.” Then I give her my phone number and hang up, my heart pounding in my chest.

Lucas is speeding, so we get to the Sheriff’s Station in under ten minutes. He pulls into the parking lot and parks in a spot that’s not even a real parking spot, but Lucas doesn’t seem to care. It’s right in front of the building.

Once inside, we approach the reception desk and ask for Detective Nawar. After a few tense minutes, Nawar saunters into the waiting area. His gaze immediately lands on Gabriel, and like Lucas and me, he looks confused as fuck.

A dead guy standing in your waiting area is a lot to take in. So, yeah, his reaction is understandable.

“Gabriel Martelle?” Detective Nawar asks, stepping forward. He squints like he’s afraid his eyes are playing tricks on him.

“Yeah, I guess,” Gabriel says with a shrug.

“He appeared this morning with just scraps of memory,” Lucas supplies.

Nawar’s critical gaze flicks over Gabriel. “Why don’t we find a room and try to sort some of this out.”

Gabriel’s panicked gaze darts to me. “I want Wyn with me.”

Nawar shakes his head. “I’d prefer to speak with you alone.”

“It’s okay,” I say, placing a reassuring hand on Gabriel’s arm. “Lucas and I will wait here while you chat with the detective. You don’t remember much, so I’m sure it won’t take long.” I turn to Nawar. “His mom doesn’t know he’s alive. We tried calling her on the way over, but she didn’t answer.”

Nawar nods stiffly. “I’ll send an officer over to the house.”

“She’s in the process of moving, so the house might be empty,” Lucas adds. “But she’s not actually leaving town until next week.”

Nawar nods. “Got it.”

I flash Gabriel a stiff smile. “You’ll be okay. Just answer his questions as honestly as possible. Don’t stress about not remembering everything.”

With a hesitant nod and one last glance at me, he follows Nawar down the hallway to the interrogation rooms. I’m sure the detective has a million questions, and I don’t know, maybe he can get more information out of Gabriel than Lucas or I did. He’s trained to get answers out of people, right?

I swallow as I watch Gabriel disappear down the hall, and then I turn and lower myself into the nearest plastic chair, prepared to wait. Lucas follows me, but he holds his hand out to me instead of sitting down. I stare at his hand for a second, then look up at him, flashing him a questioning look.

“He could be in there a while. Let’s get some fresh air,” he says.

I take his hand, but my gaze darts nervously to the guy behind the reception desk. “Uh, are we allowed to leave?”

Lucas shrugs one shoulder and then pulls me along after him. As we pass the reception desk, Lucas says, “Yo, we’ll be down at the beach. My name is Lucas West, and Nawar has my phone number if he needs one of us.”

The guy nods and scribbles Lucas’ name down. “Noted. Thanks.”

About half a block down the street, there’s a little park. It has a dirt path and weather-beaten wooden stairs that lead down to the beach. Lucas holds my hand the whole way, which feels…oddly intimate. I’m thankful for it, though. His strong hand is an anchor in the chaos that’s swirling inside my head. It’s grounding and makes me feel safe, but I know that feeling is just an illusion. Everything with Lucas is an illusion.

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