Her mother swallowed twice and began to blink hard. “I don’t honestly know. We haven’t made any decisions yet.” Her voice strengthened. “We’re having a trial separation. We’ll just have to wait and see how things go.” She looked at Keira, sorrowful and sincere. “This isn’t your fault in any way, and I’m sorry, because I know that you’re the one who ends up suffering the most from all of this.”
Keira nodded. She hadn’t felt like she was responsible for her parents’ bickering, but she loved her dad, too, and she didn’t want to be stuck shuffling between her house and some crappy bachelor apartment. A lump swelled in her throat. “It’s . . . I mean, it’s not okay, but if you have to—”
“We have to,” her mother said firmly. “One way or another, things are going to get better around here. If you’re sure you’re okay, I’m going to get cleaned up and head out. Your dad’s going to come over and get some of his things. If you want to come with me, you can, but you don’t have to. It’s your choice, and I don’t mind either way, but I’d rather not see him right now.”
Keira stared at the empty glass that sat on the night table. She wondered what would have happened if her mother hadn’t gone racing out to get the ginger ale last night. “You go ahead. I’ll stay here and . . . I kind of need to think for a little while.”
“I understand, sweetie.” Her mother stood up, smoothing the rumpled spot she’d made on the comforter.
“Where’s dad going to stay?” The question slid out before Keira could stop it.
Her mother’s expression turned flinty. “I don’t exactly know. I have my suspicions, but he hasn’t said where he’ll be. If you want to get ahold of him, he has his phone.”
The words slipped over Keira’s skin like an ice cube, leaving her goose-bumped and shivering. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.” Her mother nodded without looking at her and headed toward the bathroom.
Mechanically, Keira got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. She filled her mug with water and put it in the microwave. She watched it rotate, echoing the spinning in her head. Her parents were separating.
It wasn’t like they were ever home together, anyway.
It wasn’t like they were ever happy.
It wasn’t like it should have come as a surprise.
Still, she found herself standing in the rubble of her life and hating every second of it. She could practically feel the sharp edges under her bare feet. She glanced down and froze. Running through the middle of the kitchen was a path of black, glittering stones. And she was standing smack in the center of it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shape—a person—dart into the kitchen and disappear through the refrigerator. Keira shrieked, whirling around and stumbling onto the familiar worn linoleum. As the floor reverberated with the impact, the path faded like a shadow in the sunlight. The refrigerator stood, white and impassive, humming contentedly. Keira’s heartbeat, staccato and erratic, rose into her throat, choking her. After last night, she knew that somewhere, somehow, everything she’d just seen was real.
And whatever world—whatever reality—she was seeing . . . it was inhabited.
“Keira?” her mother called. “Are you okay?” Her voice was thick. In a flash Keira knew that she was crying. That she was using the shower to hide her breakdown from Keira.
“Sorry. I burned myself on my tea,” Keira lied, hiding her own breakdown. She couldn’t say anything to her mother. Not right then. Not when her mom was already crumbling.
“Okay.” Her mother shut the bathroom door and Keira tried not to listen for the sound of her sobbing.
With a shaking hand, Keira dropped a tea bag into her mug and scurried into the hall to steal her phone back from her mother’s purse.
She’ll never notice, anyway. Not in the middle of this chaos.
Chapter Twenty-Five
SHE PULLED THE FAMILIAR phone out of the front pocket of the purse and growled in frustration. The battery was dead. Of course. She usually charged it overnight.
She half ran to her room and jammed the cord into the phone, watching as the screen began to glow in slow-motion. The voice mail icon appeared in the corner.
Two messages.
That’s it? Two messages and no texts?
Maybe he was trying not to be suspicious. Not to be creepy.
But the first message wasn’t even him. It was the insurance agent’s office—the call she’d ignored on the way to the restaurant last night. The adjuster announced in a bored voice that the body shop had called with a damage estimate, and they’d had to total her car. She was supposed to call to discuss “next steps.”
Right then, she didn’t give a shit about the car. Right then, all she cared about was the next message.
Walker’s voice filled her ear. “Hey. Listen, I know things got kind of weird tonight. I don’t know exactly how to say this. I don’t want to hurt you, Keira.” There was a long pause, during which Keira’s heart did not beat. “I’d give anything to have things be different, but they just . . . I’m sorry. I hope, maybe someday, you can forgive me. Call me when you get this. We need to talk.”
There was a click. And a pause. And then a mechanical female voice asking her to press one to hear the message again, press two to save, or three to—
Keira snapped the phone shut.