He sticks out his tongue at me. “All right, all right. Fair point. I suppose a big night on takings is better than empty seats. And all of the academy students will be leaving soon. I’ll hit the locals then.”
I wish he hadn’t reminded me. There’s one week left of school now. One. Week. In seven days exactly, graduation will be over and done with and everyone will leave Wolf Hall. Everyone will pack up their rooms, and a line of Lincoln Town Cars will block the road that leads up the mountain, and one by one, the people I have spent the last four years of my life with will slowly disappear out into the world. I’ll see Elodie and Carrie again, of course. I might not be going to Europe with them, but there will be holidays and plenty of other opportunities for us to hang out.
Pax, though.
Pax will be leaving, and I probably won’t see him again. That shouldn’t sting as brightly as it does. I’ve barely communicated with him at all over the past two weeks. I’ve seen him in class, of course, but there have been no texts. He hasn’t shown up in my room again. I haven’t gone to the house. We’ve traded chapter for chapter, working surprisingly quickly on our novel project, but apart from that, he’s been a ghost.
The restaurant opening goes off without a hitch. The place is packed to the rafters. Dad checks his phone every ten minutes, fussing over the screen in between greeting his customers and explaining the menu he’s curated for the night’s celebrations. I help seat people, a smile plastered to my face that doesn’t even slip when I see Elodie walk in on the arm of Wren Jacobi—I should have known that Wren would be here tonight. Where Elodie goes, so does he. Carrie and Dash walk in right behind them. My heart seizes in my chest, waiting for Pax to stroll in after them. But he doesn’t.
“Oh my god, this place looks amazing!” Carrie spins around, taking the place in, as I show them over to a table for four.
“It smells amazing,” Elodie adds. I’m so grateful to them for showing up and supporting my dad that I could weep. But that doesn’t stop me from glancing back at the door again, asking as casually as possible, “Will this table be big enough or…?”
“He’s not coming,” Dash groans, sitting himself down. “He’s at home, sulking. I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but I hope you sort it out soon. He’s making our lives miserable, slamming around the house like a fucking child.”
“What are you talking about? Everything’s fine.” I laugh a little, trying to brush off the comment, but I know Dash is right. Pax is pissed with me over something. I just don’t know what. He sits as stiff as a board in Econ and English, stabbing the tip of his pen into his notepad, staring off into space. No hostile quips. No threats. No dirty sidelong looks. No curled lips or angry comments. No friendship bracelets around his wrist anymore.
The knowledge that he cut them off hurts. And the fact that he’s cutting me off hurts, too. Being the subject of Pax’s attention was a heady and terrifying thing. Being ignored by him is fucking soul destroying.
At around eight thirty, Dad pulls me aside, rubbing at his brow. “I wanted this to be a surprise, but Jonah was supposed to be here tonight. I bought him a plane ticket and everything. He was meant to show up six hours ago, and he isn’t answering his phone. You haven’t heard from him, have you?”
My blood freezes. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. Jonah’s supposed to be here. There’s a chance that he’s going to show up and walk through the doors to the restaurant any second? I’m a fool for thinking Dad wouldn’t want his son here for his grand restaurant opening, but the idea of Jonah showing up for this never really occurred to me. I can’t handle Jonah being here. I fucking can’t.
I live in a state of high anxiety, my head reeling as I rush around the restaurant, trying to pretend that I’m okay, but I’m not. I haven’t had Pax to distract me from my monsters for nearly two weeks. I thought I’d be okay, I really did. But without Pax to chase away the memories, they’ve been pressing in close of late. It’s getting harder and harder to imagine that I’m going to be okay when I leave Mountain Lakes. The lie I’ve been telling myself is getting harder and harder to believe.
The night eventually comes to an end, the final party of guests leaving the restaurant well after midnight. Dad’s so exhausted and concerned over the fact that Jonah still hasn’t shown up that he doesn’t put up a fight when I tell him I want to go and sleep in my bed at the academy rather than at the house, like I was supposed to. It’s Monday tomorrow and I have to be in class first thing, so he lets me drive myself back up the mountain.
My anxiety doesn’t quit when I let myself into my bedroom, though. I barely sleep. It’s still there, choking me in the morning when I hurry into Jarvis’ AP English class, and only heightens when I see Pax’s empty chair at the desk we share.
I need to see him.
I need to talk to him.
I just…I fucking need him. I can’t take this anymore.
“Is everything okay, Presley?” Jarvis asks when she sees my face. “You’re looking very pale. Are you having a panic attack?” Ever since my father told her about my supposed suicide attempt, her constant scrutiny has been unbearable.
I brush off her questions, shaking my head. “Where’s Pax?”
“Oh. He had to go to New York last night apparently. Some sort of family emergency.” Jarvis doesn’t seem all that concerned about what she’s just told me, but does she know about Pax’s mom’s health issues? No. I doubt Pax told any of the academy faculty that he donated bone marrow to his sick mother. If he’s had to rush back home for some kind of emergency, then something must have happened. His mom must have taken a turn for the worse.
I can think of nothing else as the English class ticks by impossibly slowly.
By the time the bell goes, signaling the end to my torture, I’ve made up my mind.
I don’t care if Pax is mad at me. I don’t care if he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.
I’m going to New York.
I’m going to go there, and I’m going to make sure he’s okay.
“What are you talking about? I fucking love road trips.” Wren stuffs the duffel bag into the trunk of the car. “Plus, he left in the middle of the night and he didn’t say a word about leaving. He knows how much I love visiting the city. I’m looking forward to seeing Meredith, too.”
I asked Elodie to get an address out of Wren—one where I might find Pax. She showed up at my room an hour later and informed me that Wren was going to drive all three of us into the city himself, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Now that I’m standing in front of Riot House with my overnight bag at my feet, I can see that she’s right; he’s adamant that he’s coming. He picks up my bag and throws it into the trunk, too.
“Don’t say anything to Dash or Carrie, though. I can’t handle chauffeuring five people around in one car. It’s not fucking happening.”
We get on the road just after three.
At six, Wren smirks, quickly reading a message that’s come through on his phone. “He’s fine. Meredith’s fine. He has a photo shoot with some high-profile photographer. Ohhh, Ralph Lauren? Fancy. He just said there was an emergency so he could disappear for a couple of days.”