Page 14 of Pumped

“That’s—that’s why they didn’t answer their phones last night.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to me. “They always pick up when their phones ring.” He lifts his gaze to me, his eyes shining in earnest. “I called them. When I was on my way over, I called them because the babysitter couldn’t reach them. I swear I did. But they didn’t pick up.”

Big, fat tears well up in his eyes and when he blinks, they escape down his cheeks.

I can’t help but be a little sympathetic. A few hours ago, I was exactly where he is now. But another part of me bristles at the tears, at the horror and despondency written all over his face.

We don’t have time for tears right now. We don’t have time for sentimentality. We can’t just break down and sob on the floor until we’re wrinkly and dehydrated.

I latch onto the feeling, the annoyance and frustration, because those will keep me on track, keep me moving, propel me forward. There are things that need to be done, decisions that need to be made, and I can’t let myself get distracted by Everest and his rollercoaster of emotions.

I down the rest of my coffee, ignoring the burn as it travels down my esophagus. Then I march over to the sink to rinse it out. When I turn back to Everest, he’s still slumped against the wall.

“Pull yourself together,” I spit out. I see him flinch right before I turn away to stalk out of the room, but I ignore it. I don’t have the luxury of tending to his delicate feelings right now.

I need to wake up Ivy, feed her breakfast, then take her to the hospital. And somewhere in the midst of that, I need to tell her that her parents are dead.

CHAPTER

FIVE

EVEREST

Owen is wrong. He has to be wrong. There’s no way Eden and Jeremy are dead. Shit like that doesn’t really happen. That’s like, movie-type stuff. That’s not real life. There has to be another explanation.

My brain runs wild with crazy possibilities. Maybe they got kidnapped and are being held for ransom. Maybe they got abducted by fucking aliens. I’ll take any of those over the bullshit Owen was spouting.

I’m still slumped against the wall when he stalks out of the kitchen and goes upstairs. A few moments later, the water starts running in the bathroom. He’s gotten Ivy up.

Oh god. Ivy. I have to stop him. He can’t tell her right now. Not until we’ve figured out what actually went down and where her parents are.

I sprint up the stairs, two at a time. They’re in her bedroom and Owen is helping her get dressed. I meet his gaze over her head and the look in his eyes stops me in my tracks.

They’re hard as steel. The dark circles under them making them look even more menacing. There’s a defeated sense ofresignation, a reluctant determination. He won’t be moved. There’s no changing his mind.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen that look in Owen’s eyes. It usually gives me a little thrill, like it’s a personal challenge directed only at me. Can I get under his skin? Can I provoke him into an outburst? It’s a game I’ve made for myself, one that I’m damned good at.

Not today, though. Today, I’m frozen to the spot, helpless as I watch Owen destroy a little girl’s life.

“Ivy,” Owen says, voice soft and somber as he lowers himself to her level.

Despite her young age, Ivy seems to sense that something’s wrong. She sits on her bed hugging Zuzi the unicorn to her chest. Her chubby little face is way too serious and her large blue eyes blink innocently at Owen.

No. He can’t do this to her. He can’t shatter her world like this. She’s too young, too small. She won’t understand.

A strangled sound escapes my throat and I cling to the doorframe.

Owen’s shoulders stiffen, but otherwise, he pretends he doesn’t hear me. He’s on his knees in front of her. Arms bracketing her on both sides.

“It’s about your mommy and daddy,” he starts.

I don’t hear the rest. The sound of my heartbeat in my ears drowns it all out. My vision blurs and all I can see are blobs of pink and rainbow. It hurts to breathe.

Then a high-pitched wail breaks through my trance and I’m thrust back into reality.

Ivy is thrashing around while Owen’s trying to hold her, screaming at the top of her lungs about wanting her mommy and daddy. Owen’s shouting on top of her, as if that will make her calm down.

I push off the wall. “Ives! Ives!”

She squirms her way out of Owen’s arms and launches herself at me. Her arms and legs snake around me like a boa constrictor and I hold her just as tightly.

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