Page 110 of The Way We Are

Regina smiles. “Of course you can. She was very adamant she wasn’t going anywhere before seeing you.”

“Will you visit me?”My mom’s voice is almost childlike, so weak and frail. “And water the garden. You know how much your father loves to see the lawn green in summer...” She stops talking as her face scrunches up.

“I’ll visit you as soon as I can,” I promise, happy to pretend she didn’t say her last comment.

Regina was upfront when she said visitation was limited at the rehabilitation center my mom is being admitted to. It isn’t that they want to discourage family connections; they just need to ensure they are severing unhealthy ties. Considering I confessed to a murder I didn’t commit, I may not be the best candidate.

After placing a final kiss to the edge of my mouth, my mom slips into a van. Her crying face is the last thing I see before the door slams shut and the van careens recklessly out of the underground garage at Ravenshoe PD.

Regina waits for the taillights to disappear before her eyes drift to me. I try to keep my face impassive. I can see the blue sky literally feet away from me. It has never looked more sensational. There's only one thing that could compete with it: Savannah’s gorgeous face.

“You’ve still got a long way to go, Ryan,” Regina warns when she spots the spark of excitement blazing through my eyes. “The discharge of your weapon resulted in a death. IA is going to be all over your ass in the morning.”

“I know,” I reply, nodding. “But that’s not until tomorrow. That leaves me tonight.”

Regina smiles, hearing the determination in my voice. My father is dead; my mother is on her way to a rehabilitation center, and I’ve left numerous messages on my brother’s phone the past five hours. There's only one bridge left for me to cross. I’m just praying my lie didn’t burn it beyond replacement.

“Go,” Regina murmurs under her breath.

“I can go?” I double-check, wanting to ensure I’m not breaking any protocol. Although all charges against me have been dropped, I don’t want Regina getting in trouble.

Regina laughs. “Yes, Ryan. You can go.” She throws the key for our police cruiser into my chest.

I’m halfway to our patrol car before she can change her mind. “Don’t use the sirens until you’re out of town,” Regina shouts, her voice barely heard over the roar of an engine. “And she better not forgive you without making you grovel first!”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m planning to grovel.”

Regina’s hearty laugh is barely heard over the rumble of my motor when I floor the gas pedal. Even the prospect of being arrested for the second time in twenty-four hours doesn’t slow my pace. With Savannah refusing to answer my calls the past several hours, I’m beyond eager to see her. It's probably for the best that she's giving me the silent treatment. Everything I plan to say should be said in person.

I make the trip to Savannah’s family mansion in record-breaking time. I even manage to slice an additional two minutes off the time I made eight months ago.

Ignoring the absurdity that I’m sweating like a pig on a cool fall day, I take the stairs two at a time. “Savannah,” I call out, knocking on the large wooden door. “I just want a chance to explain. I swear, nothing is as it seems.”

I continue knocking for another thirty seconds before I devise a new tactic. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me. I’ll camp out here all night if I have to.”

When my threat to set up shop in her front yard doesn’t work, I jingle the door knob. “Please, Savannah. All I want is a second of your time...” My plea ends when the door swings open with a slight creak.

“Savannah?” I step into the eerily quiet space. With Thorn needing round-the-clock care, her home is rarely void of noise.

Worry smacks into me hard and fast when I walk into the empty space. I’m not talking empty like someone started spring cleaning a few months early. I’m talkingemptyempty. There's even less furniture now than there was when Savannah sold all her family’s possessions to fund Axel’s ruse. Nothing but dust bunnies float across the expensive wood floor.

“Savannah!” I call out again, this one more of a panicked scream than a plea.

When my yelp is met with silence, I race up the curved stairwell, my heart rate as manic as my steps. My stomach knots when I notice all the paintings of Savannah that lined the hallway last month have been removed.

This isn’t good. Something is horribly wrong.

I don’t bother stopping to check Savannah’s room. There's only one room in this house that will give me the answers I’m seeking.

I push open Thorn’s bedroom door with hesitation, wishing I had my gun. I don’t know why I feel the need to be armed, but there is a peculiar feeling twisting in my stomach that has nothing to do with the events that occurred tonight.

“Savannah? Are you in here?” I ask, stepping hesitantly into Thorn’s bedroom.

My heart falls from my ribcage. His room is even emptier than his house.

Fuck.

This isn’t good. Thorn has displacement issues. He hasn’t left his room in years. Something is wrong—veryverywrong.

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