Page 45 of Dying to Meet You

“Got some pills or something in here?”

Well, I didn’t expect that. He’s better at reading me than most people, though. “Damn.” I let out a breath, my hands gripping my steering wheel so hard my knuckles are whitening. “I’m that transparent, huh?”

“Nah, man. But you’ve been out here a couple times, and when you’re not, you’re looking out here. I’ve been there…I came so close to getting trashed when I heard about Weston. Luckily, Ma was there.”

“I’m barely holding on here…” My voice is soft, tears pressing in. “I won’t be able to if he’s not home soon.”

He passes his cigarette to me. I hold it for a few seconds before taking a drag off it. It’s been years since I’ve smoked; Matt and Eden didn’t like the habit.

It’s still better than a few pills washed down with alcohol, which is what I’m craving.

Keir peers out the window at us. For a few hopeful seconds I think he’ll come out to investigate. But instead, he turns around to speak to Matt. Does he give one single fucking shit about me?

Some days it feels like the answer is a strong no.

I’m good for a rough fuck…

I’m funny occasionally…

I’m just not someone he cares about.

Chris has known Keir much longer than me, and he sees the look on my face as Super-Agent moves away from the window. “Damn, dude.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he ashes out the window, missing it by inches and causing white ash to rain down on the black leather door.

“Christ, Chris, come on.” I roll my eyes before leaning onto my elbow. “I’d like to keep my car burn-free.”

“Uh-huh, so this thing with Keir. Thought it was all good. Like goooood.” He raises his eyebrows as I smack his chest with the back of my hand.

“I don’t give two fucks about that right now. Our son is missing.” My tone is outraged at him for even trying to discuss this. On top of my struggle with sobriety.

“Mmmm…it’s like that? Sorry. If this helps you at all, Keir came from a place where emotions were a weakness. He couldn’t show them. He watches you, all the time, man. It’s not what you think.”

Yeah, fuck that. I’m not getting sucked into a conversation about my fuck buddy, brother-husband…whatever he would want me to call him. I’m going to tackle one problem at a time. Right now, that is keeping a clear head…a sober one.

“If you get any more ashes all over my car, I’m kicking your ass out.”

“Nah, I’ll behave. I forgot you’re a guidance counselor now and shit. You should’ve seen me when I was younger…woo wee. Not like you, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I bet someone’s parents were using me as a bad example when I was younger. Hey.” I look over at him. “Thanks for coming out here to check on me. Appreciate it.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

From a whisper to a scream

Eden

We’reondaytwowithout Weston.

I move in a functional freeze, trying desperately to appear confident he’s coming home. That the Realists will leave a message giving their demands or Hutton will walk through the door with him. When I slow down or I’m alone, I drop my act, sobbing and pledging to find out who is responsible. Because Iwillget revenge.

Parking in the lot of Dr. Almari’s office, I look over at Zinnea, who asked to come today. I was going to skip it because I don’t want to look at the horrid woman in my current state. All it will take is one remark about Weston and I’ll slug her. “Let’s do this,” I say under my breath.

Zinnea places a hand on my arm. “Thank you.”

On our walk into the opulent office, I hear a loud laugh. Turning, I see a little dark-haired boy dart away from another child. A peal of laughter goes up again. It’s not Weston, but the jolt of realization that he’s gone, that I’m carrying on with life and he’s gone…it’s all too much.

My face crumples as the quiet tears start to fall. I’m stuck in place. Zinnea takes my hand, tugging me on. Harrison nods at me from the vehicle he followed in. I have to do this…I’m not helping anyone else by giving into my hysterical feelings.

I can’t give Dr. Almari any more cause to meddle in our family.

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