I leave a voice message for my mother, letting her know I’m fine and that we’re taking a little getaway for the weekend. Trying to keep it light, I don’t tell her about anything that happened. There’s no need to worry her too. Lola went by and grabbed Huxley for me so she didn’t have to see me crying.
My phone alerts me that the battery is dying as I slide it in my pocket and lock the door. I join Huxley in the car.
“Did you get everything?” I ask, starting it up and backing down the driveway.
“Yup. I guess. I mean, I don’t know where we’re going, so it’s hard to know for sure.”
“Well, where do you want to go?” I ask, taking off down the street.
He shrugs and looks at me from beneath his Arrows cap. “Why are we leaving, Mom? Did something happen?”
I pat his leg and give him my best smile. “No, baby. I just thought, you know, me and you could get away and have some fun for a couple of days.”
“All right.”
He hums along to the radio, watching the trees go by. I try to pay attention to the road and not let my mind get carried away. My head is throbbing from being sick and crying, my throat still raw. My nerves are completely frayed as we get farther out of town.
After a half hour, Hux looks at me, his eyes serious. “Mom?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I know you’ve been crying.”
My heart breaks at the worry in his eyes, the one thing I try desperately to never let him feel. I want him to grow up confident, knowing everything is okay. Not worrying about adult problems until he’s an adult, and if I can keep him from it then, I know I will. Huxley is my life, comes before anything in my world, and the look on his face destroys me.
“Girls cry sometimes, Hux. You know that.” I try to laugh and play it off, but he doesn’t bite.
“I know. The girls in my class cry all the time about really stupid stuff. But you’re not just a girl. You’re my mom. You’re tough. So if you cry . . . maybe I should worry.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” I say. “Because no matter what happens, as long as I have you, everything will be okay.”
He tilts his little head. “Did you have a fight with Barrett?”
“Not really. It’s not anything you need to worry about, okay?”
“You don’t have anyone else to worry about you. When I’m sick or sad, you take care of me. Who takes care of you?”
His words nearly bring fresh tears to my eyes. I fight them back, but it takes everything I have.
“I’m fine, Hux.”
“Is this about the man with the camera? Because if it is, I’m fine, Mom.”
Luckily, my phone ringing distracts the conversation. But when I pull it out of my pocket, I see Lincoln’s name.
I only have a few percent left on my phone, so I answer it, figuring I can’t get trapped into anything big. But I want to know if something has happened over the girl at Luxor, so I answer.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” Linc asks.
“Driving. Is everything okay?”
“Where are you though? Specifically?”
“I don’t know,” I say, looking around. “Why? What’s happening?”
He sighs. “For one, I’m standing on your porch and you aren’t here.”
“I already told you that.”
“For two, Graham just got a call that you were involved in some altercation at work tonight. We wanted to make sure you were okay before we tell Barrett because he’s going to go ape-shit when he finds out.”
My spirits sink and I want to close my eyes and rest them, quiet the pounding in my skull, but I can’t.
Huxley watches me from the other seat, not missing a thing. I have to choose my words carefully so I don’t panic him.
“There was a little thing,” I admit carefully. “I hope it’s not causing you any issues.”
“Is Huxley right there? Is that why you aren’t answering me?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re okay? You aren’t physically harmed or anything, right?”
“No.”
“Did you fill out a police report?”
“No. I called Barrett to tell him, but . . .”
“But what?” he asks ominously.
“Nolan answered.”
He exhales harshly and I know he too is choosing his words. “Did he fuck with you? I hate that son of a bitch.”
I don’t answer him. I can’t say it out loud in front of Huxley, and I don’t really want to hear the words ringing in the air myself again anyway.
“Ali?”
“He had things to say, yes, that I didn’t expect.”
“That fucker. That motherfucker. What did he say?”
“I. . . . really don’t want to talk about it,” I gulp.
“Where are you?” he asks, his voice taking on a level of authority I’ve never heard out of Lincoln. It’s so reminiscent of Barrett that it makes my heart hurt. “I’m coming after you.”
“No, you aren’t. I’m taking Hux out of town for the weekend.”
“Alison . . .” he sighs. “Barrett had no idea Daphne was going to be walking with him tonight at the Gala—”
My laughter, a sad, heavy chuckle, stops him.
“That’s not even the biggest issue, Linc.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”