Page 95 of Shattered Veil

“Okay,” the panic in her voice forced me to speak up. “Cas…it’s only fifteen after the hour.”

“I know what fucking time it is, Jay!”

Zoey interjected, “The last thing we need right now is you two bickering.”

I retorted over my shoulder at her, “We aren’t bickering!” before turning back to Cassie. “I’m sure Sky’s fine. She was at her parents’ house last night?”

“In Roanoke.” Her casual, following, “Uh huh,” was nearly drowned out by the audible buzz her phone made as it vibrated beside her. All heads whipped to the source of the noise; it was in her hand in the blink of an eye, and her shoulders sagged as she let out an exhale.

Weighted silence filled the room, for Cassie’s expression seemed torn…and it wasn’t clear whether her reaction was one of relief or further worry.

Liam questioned, “Well, was it her?”

“Sky,” she grumbled. “Yes, it was her.” Cassie’s voice turned to a higher, sweeter pitch as she read from her phone, emulating Skylar, “‘Sorry…family drama, long story.’”

“Family drama?” Colton repeated, “Family. Drama?”

“That is what she said,” Cassie sardonically remarked.

He scoffed. “People are dying. This isn’t exactly the time to prioritize a fight with Mommy.”

Cassie typed while sneering, “It’s probably not just a fight with Mommy.” She looked up to him and mentioned, “It’s not like her to bail.”

“Is she bailing?” he asked. “Or is she just late?”

She bit back, “What do you think I just asked? I’m not just…” It was clear her phone had vibrated as she stopped herself mid-sentence to look at her palm, huffed out a breath, and said, “She’s not coming.”

“Perfect,” Colton complained quietly. “As much as I’d love to stay for breakfast, I’m gonna go.” His chair scraped the flooring below as he stood, and he gently suggested, “Maybe give her some more incentive to actually show next time?”

“I did think—”

“I know, I know.” He waved her away as he strode toward the door. “Another time.”

The door closed, and all that lingered was a sense of hopelessness. Not fear, nor the loss of control as life rapidly careens off of an expected path—just hopelessness. Hopelessness and the sensation of a ticking clock continually counting down with no knowledge of the time remaining, and no way to figure out if disaster would strike upon zero. There was no use in pondering it—no use to fall into the hole of unease that seemed to stretch on to eternity.

Feigned braveness abound, the clock ticked on.

Chapter 18

Icherished the moments when Cassie and I were left alone. The ones in which we felt that we could abandon the chaos of the surrounding world and just sink into each other. I think we both knew that the privacy we were granted from whatever deity above was fleeting, and while I so wished that I could abandon all responsibility only to relish in our personal lives that had entwined with such beauty within darkness, I couldn’t.

I told myself that, anyway, as we went about the day as normally as we could.

Grocery shopping.

Her accompanying me to the laundromat.

Finding a restaurant to eat lunch at while we were out.

Returning home and simply living.

It all passed far too quickly, and though we both relished in the occasional brush of our hands—a stolen kiss—an embrace that left us wanting to consume one another—I could see in Cassie’s eyes that she was on edge. Every glance at her phone was with the intention of checking on Skylar. Brief texts were sent, read receipts were received, and her responses were quick and succinct, but Cassie continued to watch her screen with a narrow-eyed skepticism.

My questioning of it all was waved away, her muttered, “It’s nothing,” was continually repeated, and it lasted through the night—returning after ever-brief shared moments of peace until we eventually drifted off to sleep.

It was early. I knew it was early. The familiar feeling of being torn between reality and what occurs in the depths of my mind kept me in half of a trance. Physically, I was comfortable. Warm. I was well aware that Cassie was beside me in my bed, but for whatever reason, I was filled with dread.

My recurring nightmare attempted to cling to me, settling on my brain like a cloud of cigar smoke. Stale cigar smoke that lingers in your throat, burrows into your clothing, and coats your hair in such a way that it’s damn near impossible to clean. The usual visions that I was familiar with were unable to be entirely recalled, and for that, I was thankful.

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