His words brought back fear and uncertainty. "I'll be okay," I said halfheartedly.
"You will be okay. I'll make sure of it."
"All right. Thanks."
We finished dressing and then met by the door. Before Drake opened it, he leaned in and gave me a long kiss. It felt like there was a promise in there somewhere, but he didn't verbalize it, and I didn't ask.
Then he grabbed an umbrella, and we went down the stairs. It was almost eleven now, and the restaurant had closed, but there was still a warmth to the building, and I was reluctant to leave it.
"Ready?" Drake asked as he opened the door.
"No, but let's do it."
He opened the umbrella and held it with one hand as he put his other arm around me. Together, we ran toward my car. Drake waited until I had the doors locked, then went back to retrieve his vehicle from behind the restaurant.
It felt good to see his lights behind me. It felt even better to know that he cared enough to worry about me. Not that I was going to let myself go down that road. I didn't know what the future would bring. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, I was going to savor the first genuine connection I'd felt in the past ten years.
When I got home, I parked in the drive and ran up to the front door. I opened it and then gave Drake a wave. Closing the door, I locked it behind me.
There was a light on in the hall, but the house was silent. I went upstairs and saw the open door to Kelsey's dark room, which served as a cold, cruel reminder of reality. The other bedroom doors were closed, and I couldn't hear anyone talking.
It occurred to me that Kelsey was the one who'd always brought the life to our family. She'd been the most gregarious, the one with the loudest voice, and the longest laugh. If she'd been home, I would have heard music coming from her room. Or she might have been on the phone, talking to one of her friends. Or she and Brooklyn might have been sitting on her bed, discussing the wedding. But none of that was happening tonight, and without her, the house was very quiet, an ominous sign of a future I didn't want to contemplate.
I went into my room, shut the door, took off my clothes and crept into bed, suddenly exhausted. I wanted to sleep, and I wanted to wake up to happy news.
I closed my eyes, praying that would happen.
Despite my weary state, I had trouble falling asleep and when I did, disturbing dreams created terrifying images in my mind. I woke up as the morning light crept through the window, and it reminded me of the past, of waking up on the patio, chilled and dazed.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to go back in time before that. How had I gotten onto that patio lounger? I felt like someone had helped me. There had been a hand on my arm. Then it was gone.
Who had taken me home?
I'd been on the road. I'd seen flashing lights. A figure had come over me.
I struggled as the seat belt tightened around my body. I couldn't sit upright. I felt dizzy and sick. I slumped down. My head banged against the console. There was a radio. Someone's arm. They were wearing a black jacket.
My gaze moved toward the back.
Was someone there?
There was something red on the floor.
My breath started coming fast. The red was swirling around in front of my eyes like a blob of paint taking different shapes. Was I just imagining it?
Finally, it settled down. It was a book.
A book?
Yes. A red-leather book.
My eyes flew open. I jerked up in the bed, confused as to where I was.
I wasn't in a car. I was in bed, and it was ten years later. I'd remembered something. The book in the car. I sucked in a desperate breath. I had to be wrong. It wasn't possible. Was it?
I got out of bed and paced around the room. It was lighter out now, almost eight o'clock in the morning. The rain had eased. I could hear people downstairs. The dream was fading from my mind, but it still felt very real. Because it wasn't a dream; it was a memory.
I needed to talk to Drake. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and punched in his number.
"Willow?" he said. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, but I remembered something."
"Hold on," he said.
I could hear a roaring sound in the background. "Where are you?" I asked.
"I'm on the beach looking for my dad."
"What do you mean? Where is he?"
"I don't know. My mom woke up around four in the morning, and he wasn't in bed. She waited until six to call me. She's worried about him."
I sank down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry."
"He's probably fine, Willow. He does this—a lot."
"But you're still concerned."
"Well, I'd like to find him, but he could be anywhere. What's going on with you?"
"I remembered something. That night on the road, I got in the car, the one that stopped. I was feeling dizzy and sick. Everything was blurry, like things were moving in front of my eyes. I saw something red on the floor. It was a book—a red book."
"What?" he asked more sharply. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Yes! I think it was Melanie's diary. It was in that car."
"Are you sure?"
"No, I'm not sure," I said in frustration. "My brain could be playing tricks on me, but I don't think so. I believe I saw her diary, but I don't know if she was there. I didn't see her. I just saw the book."
"We need to find out who picked you up. I'm coming over. I can be there in twenty minutes."
"Wait. Don't come here." I didn't want to upset Brooklyn and my parents, with Drake showing up at our door.
"Then where?"
I thought about that. "Tom Ryan's house. I want to ask him if he picked me up that night."
"If he had Melanie's diary in his vehicle, why would he tell you the truth?"
"Maybe he won't. But maybe whatever he says will tell us something. He said he protected me. He's the best lead I have. I can be at his house in an hour. I have to get dressed and make sure my parents and sister don't need anything from me before I head out. But I can go on my own if you need to find your father."
"If I don't find him before it's time to meet you, then I'll look for him later. He'll show up. This isn't like Melanie or Kelsey. This is just my dad needing to get out of the house. I'll see you soon. And Willow, this is good."
"I hope it's good," I said, but there was nothing but bad feelings running through me as I got up from the bed and went into the bathroom to take a shower.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When I went downstairs, Brooklyn and my parents were in the dining room talking to Sean Chadwick. The conversation paused when I entered the room.
"How's Carter?" I asked.
"He's…alive, barely," Sean said with an angry, sad grimace. He looked like he'd aged ten years in the last twenty-four hours. "Doctors think there's a chance he'll recover, but we don't know what condition his brain will be in if and when that happens."
"I'm so sorry," I murmured.
"Thanks. Gage told us about Carter and Kelsey last night. Now, I'm worried about him snapping, breaking…" Sean drew in a breath. "I can't believe what's happening to my family."