“Okay, fine, I won’t take advantage of you if it means you’ll stop crying.”
“I’m just so happy,” she said.
My dad put one hand on my shoulder.
“I know,” I said. I knew they were relieved now, their lives righted. But for me, it felt like the real tragedy had just begun. I tried to keep my happy face in place for them.
My family weren’t my only hospital visitors. Before I could drain that liter of saline, Lisa, Avi, and Morgan had stopped by as well, saying they had heard the news when the day’s search was called off.
“I thought you left with Jeff,” Lisa whispered as the others talked to my parents. “I thought for sure you had. We hadn’t even started the fire when it started to snow pretty bad. We had all just gotten there and decided to head up to the cabin before we needed chains for the cars. Jeff left first.”
“Why would you think I left without telling you?”
“I don’t know. It was crazy. Avi was screaming about being wet. Everyone was laughing. I had been pressuring you to tell Jeff at the bonfire. I thought you left with him. And you know what I thought to myself? I thought, ‘Go Autumn.’ I was proud of you. And then I heard the news and I was devastated. It was my fault you were with him.”
“I wasn’t with him.”
“I know, but I thought you were, and it was my fault. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “Lisa. Stop. Even if I had been with him, it wouldn’t have been your fault. It was an accident.” I took a deep breath. “Thank goodness nobody was with him.”
“I know. Only girls had jumped in his car on the way to the bonfire and they were all continuing on to the cabin.”
“But Jeff,” I said.
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
“Have you been to see him?”
“He’s in the ICU. No visitors.”
I sighed. I couldn’t get worked up about him before I knew anything. Lisa’s face looked how I felt—etched in worry. My face must’ve looked the same, because she slid next to me and wrapped her arms around my waist.
“I’m just so relieved you’re okay,” she said.
“I was never in danger. I was fine.”
She laid her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I left you in the library. I’m an idiot.”
I shook my head. “No, please. Don’t worry about that. It’s my fault for drinking half a two-liter bottle of DP.”
She tugged on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “Whose is this?”
I remembered how easy it was for Dax to read my lies and tried to channel calm when I said, “I found it at the library. It was so cold there.”
She took a big whiff of me. “It smells good. Like . . .”
Dax. It smelled like Dax.
“Man,” she said, and I laughed. “It smells like a guy. Like a really good-smelling guy.”
“I thought the same thing when I put it on.”
She sat up. “Were you terrified in there?”
I twisted the hot pink bracelet that was still tied around my wrist. “It wasn’t too bad.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get out of here.”
“I will.” And I would. I’d tell her everything in a couple of weeks, when all of this had died down and everyone was done asking questions. When Jeff was out of intensive care and fine. When enough time had passed for Dax to see he wasn’t going to get in trouble for this. Then I’d tell her.
CHAPTER 19
At six o’clock the next morning my eyes popped open for the eleventh time since I’d closed them the night before. My mind was filling my dreams with worry. Worry about Jeff, about Dax, about my parents. My bed was too soft, too warm. The house in general felt very warm. Had my parents turned up the heat higher than normal?
I climbed out of bed, my head pounding when I stood up. I needed aspirin.
I was surprised when I found my mom sitting in the recliner in the living room, her laptop open on the arm of a chair and a legal pad on her lap. “What are you doing? Did you sleep out here?” I asked.
“No. I couldn’t sleep. I’m researching the protocol on nighttime procedures for public buildings.”
“Mom.”
“You shouldn’t have been locked in there. Every room should’ve been searched before the last person left.”
“Mom, can you not do that?”
She sighed. “I keep thinking that I dreamed yesterday. That I’ll wake up and you’ll be . . .”
“You didn’t. I’m here. I’m fine.” I felt guilty once again for not pulling the fire alarm earlier. That’s how we were eventually discovered, my mom had told me—the fire alarm. Dax must’ve pulled it.
I kissed the top of my mom’s head, then continued on into the kitchen. “Did Owen make it back to school okay?”
“Yes, he texted me at about one a.m.”
Another thing to feel guilty about—making my brother drive six hours to help search for me.
“What are you doing awake?” my mom asked.
“Couldn’t sleep either. Plus it’s time to get ready for school.”