Page 52 of Riot

But what if something happens?

What if it doesn’t and you just have fun?

Can I message and let you know?

Dayna

Absolutely.

I close the app and slide my phone onto the bedside table.

Way to be pathetic, Ivy.You can’t even meet your friends in a public place for a few hours without freaking out.

It wasn’t even Link I saw.

Flopping onto the bed, I stare at the ceiling, my gut churning.

I miss my old life, the old me.

Weekends were all I’d lived for. Friends, boys, fun.

I had plans,dreams. Now, I’m too scared to leave the apartment alone.

I roll onto my side, my cheek pressed to my palm, and frown. My daughter’s hospital bag is slouched at the foot of the cot.

Those twenty-four hours we were in the hospital are like a fever dream, so I’m not surprised I don’t remember bringing it home, but I do know there were only a few things in it. So, why in the fuck is it bulging?

A jolt of electricity slams through me. I sit up and peel the blankets off my legs, a flicker of dread crawling up my spine.

It’s just a bag. Don’t make this weird.

But that dread in my gut is swelling as I pad across the floor and drag the zip open.

There, among the nappies and baby grows, is a pink teddy bear wedged in tight, like it belongs there.

I stare at it.

Where the hell did this come from?

Maybe Mace or Maylie bought it while we were in the hospital. Or Toby. The little dork can be sweet sometimes, but this is not his style.

Cold licks along my arms and wraps around my throat in a slow, crushing grip.They would’ve told me if they’d bought it.

My gut knows, but my head refuses to listen.

I won’t give life to that thought.I can’t.

I’m still holding the teddy when I step into the living room. Toby lifts his eyes for a second before glancing back at his phone.

But it’s my sister who cuts through my panic. She looks like shit. Her smile is brittle, and all the warmth and colour has been sucked out of her cheeks, leaving her hollowed out.

“You okay?” I ask, the bear clutched in my fingers forgotten.

“I’m good.” I scoff at the blatant lie. She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Okay, maybe I’m not doing cartwheels, but I actually do feel better. I’ve only puked twice this morning, so I’m calling that a win.”

The deflection lands like a gut-punch, and taut bands clamp around my ribs.

“Shouldn’t that have stopped by now?”

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