Page 101 of What I Should Have Known

“You know something,” Emma stated, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes,” I said with a nod.

“And you’re not going to share it, are you?”

I shook my head.

She kept her gaze steady on me, studying my face as I did everything possible to remain neutral in my expression. The dull headache lingered from yesterday, and while I knew I still smelled of the hospital after a twenty-four-hour stay, finding Bernie trumped all else. Especially because he would need to grovel—but only for a moment. I deserved that. But I also knew why he hadn’t come back to the hospital.

I too had made a promise to him. He still hadn’t broken his, and I certainly wouldn’t break mine.

“All right. Go on.” She sighed, nodding toward the house.

With a brief hug, I pulled the handle to the car door and hopped outside. It was late afternoon, with only a lingering scent of the rainfall from yesterday. Bernie’s 4Runner waited in the driveway, clean as a result of the storm, and my heart leapt in my chest knowing he was a mere thresholdaway. And Ford, but Ford was respectful enough, he’d give Bernie and me the space we needed.

Pacing up to the steps, I quickly rapped my knuckles against the wooden frame. I danced between each foot, waiting for someone to answer. Waiting for him.

“Come in!” a muffled voice called out from inside. Not Bernie’s. Not Ford’s. A female voice.

Twisting the knob, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. Glancing to my left, I gave Bernie’s mom a quick smile as her gaze connected with mine.

“Oh, hello, Kat!” Bernie’s mom said and she placed a rinsed plate into the drying rack. “I was just finishing dishes and then going to come visit. I heard what happened in town while at work this morning.”

“Is Bernie here?” I asked, not intentionally skipping past the greetings, but all I wanted was to see him.

“Bernie?” Her brows stitched together as she pulled a bowl from the sudsy water in the sink and scrubbed. “I thought he’s been with you since he blazed out of here with a grin like a madman yesterday. He and Ford were talking about going mudding with you and Emma.”

My breath caught in my throat. “No. He left when my family showed up at the hospital. I thought…”

She paused as some bubbles from the dish soap slid down the side of the fork she now held. “He never came back?”

I shook my head. “Nor did Ford.”

Her eyes darted out the window above the sink, and she smiled. “Oh, I bet they’re both in Bernie’s room. His vehicle’s here. And he must’ve justleft to give you space with your family. I can imagine how worried they were. Why don’t you head on up to his room?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Phillips.” I quickly tossed my shoes to the side and darted across the kitchen.

“It’s Eleanor, Kat,” she called out as I raced up the stairs.

The exertion ignited the dull ache in the back of my head, but I ignored it. Bernie was a hallway away. All that stood between me and him was a closed doorway.

Something I didn’t bother to knock on as I twisted the handle and swung it open.

To find his room empty.

There wasn’t a misplaced sock, a rather large best friend, nor a wayward piece of lint on the clean floor. Even Muffin’s cat tree seemed untouched. The dresser was dusted and not an article of clothing hung from a drawer carelessly left open. His bed was neatly made with crisp corners that had shocked me the first time I’d seen his room.

His bed.

I locked my sights on an evenly folded piece of paper resting on his bedspread. Quietly, I rushed over to the side of his mattress and snatched the letter up. Written across the front was a single word—Mom.

Beneath the letter was his phone, and I exhaled slowly. No wonder he hadn’t responded to a single text of mine. Nor answered the phone calls I made once my family had left me with Emma to get dressed. He didn’t have it. It wasn’t even on.

With a final glance around his room, I placed the note to my chest, tucked the phone into my pocket, and slipped back out of his room.

And froze like a statue that had never quite been finished.

He wasn’t here. The final thread of hope I’d been clinging so tightly to unraveled in my hands. Bernie was well and truly gone. He’d left. I knew why, but there was anguish in my soul that wasn’t satiated despite understanding. A pain that roared as hot as the anger at him, but also equally as bright as the determination that slithered like a cord through my veins.

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