Page 65 of Where We Belong

“Fran, what’s wrong?”

“I—” She hiccups. “I messed up.”

I’m already out of the door when I ask her, “What’s wrong?” Then, “Tell me where you are.”

She sniffles. “I’m at some party Cam brought me to.”

My vision turns red. Of course it’s got something to do with that Cameron fuckface.

“Do you have an address?” I ask her before the sound of my truck door slamming shut fills the line.

“I…I think so.”

I notice my hands are shaking when I try to insert the key in the ignition and can’t align it with the hole. I force a breath in my lungs, and when the call connects to Bluetooth, I pull the phone away from my ear and say, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She starts to answer, then breaks down into sobs so hard I can barely hear anything she says.

“Fran, I need you to calm down and tell me what the fuck’s going on.” I can’t handle this. All kinds of terrible thoughts cram into my head, from her having been drugged all the way to Cameron having lifted a hand to her.

I guess tonight’s the night I finally go to jail.

“He brought me to a party,” she repeats, “but it wasn’t the type of party I expected.”

“What does that mean?” I look over my shoulder to pull out of my parking spot. I don’t know where I’m going yet, but I can’t sit still any longer.

“There were other guys here,” she says in a squeaky voice, and everything inside me stops.

No.

I feel like I can’t breathe as I ask, “Did…anyone touch you?”

“N-no. I got out…”

I don’t hear the rest of her sentence as my blood pressure falls, and I thank every possible god out there.

“Give me an address, please,” I say as calmly as I can, which is not fucking calmly at all. The worst might not have happened yet, but it doesn’t mean she’s out of the woods. She ended up moving in with this guy a month ago. Maybe she even thinks they’re in love. This might just be the beginning.

My phone pings with a location about an hour south of here.

“Don’t move, I’m on my way,” I say, immediately heading toward the highway.

“Thank you,” she says. “And Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t say anything to Mom. To anyone. Please.”

“Fran, this isn’t fair.” I can’t hide anything from my parents, much less when it’s about Fran. I’m a terrible liar, and more than that, I hate the idea of keeping secrets.

“Please,” she repeats, and the thickness of her voice is what finally gets me.

“Fine,” I grit out. “Stay safe. I’m coming.”

I hang up, then push on the gas.

Chapter 23

Lexie

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