I groan, sitting upright. “You’re still forgetting the fact that he’s behind Brady being missing! Let’s not forget that, all right? My brother is in the middle of Africa, in the hands of a bunch of complete barbarians, and it’s Fenton that hasn’t gotten him back!”
Presley takes a deep breath and folds her hands on her lap. I know this look. She’s getting ready to say something she thinks is going to make me fly off the handle, and she’s trying to get in her best diplomatic form.
I brace myself for what comes next.
“Why is this his fault?” she asks, her voice low.
“Because he owns the company!” I nearly shout.
“And maybe Fenton has done everything he can, Brynne. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to not care, not after everything you’ve told me about him and what I’ve seen out of him before all this happened.”
My phone rings on the table in front of me and I glare at her as I pick it up, not so much because I’m mad at her but more so she stops talking. I don’t want to discuss this with her anymore. I want her to just let me be pissed, let me blame Fenton, and not try to make things foggier. That makes them hurt worse and each time the pain goes up a bit, I think that’s the top.
“Hello?” I say without looking at the screen.
“Hi, Brynne,” my mother says.
“Mom? How are you?” I watch Presley get up and disappear down the hall. My heart aches that we argued, but I know she won’t hold it against me. I’ll still apologize later, but I shouldn’t have lashed out at her.
“Senator Hyland’s office called a little bit ago and talked to your father,” she says, her voice trembling just a touch. “He told us to brace ourselves.”
“Why?” I gulp, my stomach bottoming out.
“Nekuti has made demands. Money, a prisoner exchange, and a bunch of crazy foreign policy requests. And . . .” her voice breaks at the idea and I hear her crying softly. “You know they won’t be met.” The sounds are muffled, like she has a tissue over her face and the image smashes any semblance of emotional control I’ve managed to attain.
“Oh, Mom” I say, trying to sound strong but failing miserably. There’s no strength left in me at all.
“What will I do? How can I live without my son?”
My lips tremble and I wish desperately for a set of arms around my shoulders. I feel so unbelievably alone, so stripped naked, and there’s nothing I can do to comfort myself or my mother.
She sobs on the other end, a hushed racking of emotion. I hear my father’s whispers and it relieves me a little to know he’s there with her.
“I can’t live without him,” she cries. “He’s my baby boy, my first born, the one that taught me to be a mother. I just want him home.”
“Me too, Mom,” I say through my own tears. “Me too.”
The line jostles and my father’s deep timbre comes through. “You okay, Brynne Girl?”
“No.”
He laughs somberly. “Me either. Just keep praying. Keep holding on.”
“I will. Do you want me to come home, Daddy?”
“Unless you need us, I think you’re better off staying there. It’s just a pit of despair here. Everything revolves around Brady all day and you need to go to work, go to school, you know? Life must go on.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to go take care of your mother. This has hit her pretty hard. Donna is staying a few more days.” His voice breaks and the sound of my father, the strongest man I know, cracking, pummels me. “We gotta make it through this.”
“We will,” I say through my own tears. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too. I’m gonna go now and be with your Mom.”
“Yes, go. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I click the phone off and look up to see Presley standing in the doorway. I don’t know how much she heard, but apparently enough to get the gist of what happened. She doesn’t say a word, just marches across the room and pulls me into a huge hug.
“It’ll be all right, Brynnie.”
“I don’t know anymore,” I sniffle, releasing her. “The demands have been made and they won’t be met.”
She sits beside me and looks at me curiously. “Could Fenton know anything else?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I mull it over. “Even if he does, would he even tell me?”
“I think you should call him. Just see.”
”You think?”
She nods and hands me my phone. “Just see.”
I hold the phone in one hand and dry my face with the other. I flip through the phone, my fingers shaking with anticipation. I find his name and call. It rings three times before his voicemail picks up.
My spirits crash in spectacular fashion. Once his prerecorded message plays, I say, “Hi, Fenton. It’s Brynne. My mom said there’s been a development, and I was wondering if you knew anything about that. I’d, um, like to know if you do. Thanks.” I end the call.
“He sent me to voicemail.” I rest my head on Presley’s shoulder, crushed. “He’s probably done with me. He hasn’t called or texted in days, anyway. I don’t know why I think he would’ve answered now.”
“Maybe he’s busy.”