“I think it’s still there.”
“Thanks.” I kicked my shoes into my closet and went to the kitchen in my socked feet. The book sat on the counter and I picked it up. Almost out of habit now, I flipped through the pages, looking for the letter. It wasn’t there. I flipped through them again, not producing a different result.
“Mom!” This wasn’t good. I searched the countertops. There was a pile of mail next to the phone and I looked through it but couldn’t find anything. I scanned the floor under the cabinets, even pulled out the trash can and started digging through it.
My mom came into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”
“There was a letter. I’m missing a letter.”
“Calm down. We’ll find it. What did it look like?”
“Like a letter. A long white envelope with writing on it.” My hand met the slimy remains of macaroni and cheese. I shook it off and turned on the sink, washing my hands with soap. I needed an empty bag so that I could transfer the trash over. I headed for the pantry.
“Did it have a stamp on it?”
I stopped and slowly turned to look at my mom’s worried face.
“Yes . . . why?”
“I thought you were looking for a letter. Like a piece of paper with writing on it.”
“No . . . so did you see it?”
“I sent it.”
“You what?”
“It was just sitting there on the counter addressed and ready to go. I thought maybe one of Owen’s friends or one of your friends needed it mailed.”
“No, it was in the book.”
She lowered her brows. “No, it wasn’t in a book. Just on the counter.”
It must’ve slipped out. “Oh no. He’s going to kill me.”
“Who’s going to kill you?”
“When did you mail it? Yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“It was only going to Salt Lake. Do you think it got there yet?”
“Probably.”
“Crap. Crap, crap, crap.” A saving thought came to me. “I have her address. In my phone. I entered it into my phone.” I rushed back to my room and pulled my shoes back on. “I have to go talk to her.”
“Go talk to who?” my mom asked from my doorway.
“His mom. I have to go talk to her. Maybe she’ll give me the letter back. I’m going to fix this.”
“Autumn, I don’t think you should go anywhere with how you’re feeling right now.”
“Mom, please. If I don’t I’m going to freak out. Like really freak out. Can you just trust me on this? I need to do something.”
“Show me your hands.”
I held them out in front of me. Surprisingly they were as steady as could be.
She nodded. “Call me on your way home.”
“Okay. Thank you!” I kissed her cheek and ran out the door.
CHAPTER 41
The apartment complex was in a scary part of Salt Lake. It was a good thing my mom hadn’t known exactly where I was going because there was no way she’d have let me go there. The other good thing was that it was still early afternoon so it wasn’t as scary as it might’ve been when the sun went down.
I walked through the glass front doors and up a wide set of stairs. The elevator looked functional at best so I continued to take the stairs up to the fourth floor. The hall smelled like mildew and cinnamon, making me gag a little. I stepped over a tipped-over planter box halfway down the hall, dirt spilled across the carpeted floor. When I arrived in front of her door, I wiped my sweating palms on my jeans and knocked.
The woman who opened the door had graying hair and Dax’s eyes. Please let this go well, I thought. “Hi.”
“Can I help you?”
I looked over her shoulder and into the apartment. Maybe I’d see a stack of mail somewhere. I didn’t. All I saw was a tidy studio apartment. A small couch with a knit quilt hanging over the back. A bookcase with neatly stacked books. A kitchen with wiped-down counters and a teakettle on the stove. Everything in its place. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but not this. Not a clear-eyed, healthy-looking woman with a tidy studio apartment. “Um. Did you get your mail today?”
She let out a small gasp and I knew she had. I knew she knew I was there because of it.
“My mom sent you that letter by accident. He’s not ready for any sort of response right now. Can you respect that?”
She opened the door wider. “Come in.”
I did. We sat on the couch together. Me desperate, her calm. Like Dax.
“You know my son,” she said.
“I do. He left a book at my house with that letter in it. He has no idea you have it.”
She smiled a sad smile. “Too good to be true.”
“You were going to write him back?”
“Of course. I already started to.” She picked up a paper off the coffee table next to us that I hadn’t been able to see from the door. She pulled out Dax’s envelope from beneath it. The edge was jagged from where she had opened it. She ran her finger over the return address. “I had no idea where he was.”
“He’s not there anymore. He lives in a different house.”