Page 4 of Lotus

But then I see him.

An officer steps aside, revealing my friend. Gabe is sitting on the edge of his couch, elbows to knees, his hands tented in front of his face. His eyes are red and bloodshot, rimmed with tears, and he gazes up at me with the most haunting expression I’ve ever seen.

My heart clenches through chaotic beats, confusion and fear battling it out inside of me. “Gabe… what the hell is going on?”

Gabe stands, scrubbing his face with his palms as he takes slow steps toward me. His dark blonde hair is stuck to the sweat glistening on his forehead. “Sydney.”

I stare at him, waiting with wide eyes and quivering limbs.

“Sydney…” he continues, then heaves in a deep breath. “It’s Oliver. They found Oliver.”

The air leaves my lungs with a giant whoosh, and I teeter on both feet, wondering if I misheard him. My foggy vision becomes even more hindered as fresh tears coat my eyes. “Wh-what?” A strangled gasp escapes me, the words registering one at a time.

They found Oliver.

They. Found. Oliver.

I manage to get one more question out: “Where was his body?”

His body. His bones.

His dirty overalls with popsicles stains.

Gabe takes a few more steps forward, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. He reaches out to squeeze my shoulders, and I’m grateful for that, I’m so grateful, because his next words rip the rug out from under me.

“He’s alive.”

I collapse.

T W O

APOWDER BLUE HOSPITAL CURTAINis the final barrier hovering between me and my childhood best friend—the man discovered on the side of a snowy highway thirty miles west of his hometown, shirtless and bloody, with a protective hazmat suit gathered around his ankles.

It’s the onlyphysicalbarrier, anyway.

My sneakers pegged to the sticky hospital floor provide an equally effective excuse to remain on the opposite side of that curtain, chewing on my fingernails. Hands shaking violently, eyes closed tight, the dense lump in my throat refuses to budge.

Much like my feet.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find when I walk through that curtain, and that’s exactly why I’m stalling. That’s why I’m scared shitless, near tears, tongue-tied and teetering. Part of me thinks I’ll see that same little boy from twenty-two years ago with freckles on his nose and shaggy hair, bangs cloaking two curious eyes. We’ll share a popsicle and a knock-knock joke, then everything will go back to the way it was before.

The way it’s supposed to be.

Another part of me expects a ghost.

Oliver Lynch can’t be real… he can’t bealive, walking and talking, warm flesh, blood flowing. He can’t be more than a pile of brittle bones and soil.

A beautiful memory.

The last twenty-four hours have overthrown everything I thought I knew, shattering the walls I’ve constructed over the years, dismantling each and every misaligned theory I force-fed myself, just so I couldcope.

Just so I could move forward with my life without him.

But part of me knew—part of me fuckingknewhe was still out there, and I hate myself for not looking hard enough.

Gabe’s hand floats to the small of my back, causing me to jump in place. “You okay?”

I forgot he was even standing beside me.

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