Page 73 of Lost Love Found

Elaina, where are you?

Maeve hasn’t heard from you. We’re worried.

I’m losing my mind.

I’ll be calling Owen next. You know he’ll overreact. Please text me back.

Finally, I do. I hope he hasn’t called Owen yet. That last text came in 18 minutes ago.

I’m sorry. I’m safe.

ADAM

I love you.

My heart sinks somehow lower than the canyon it’s been buried under for the last eight hours. I turn my phone off. Otherwise, I’ll sit here and read that last text until the letters all blur together.

Around noon, my mom comes into my room quietly. She’s got a tray with soup and fresh bread on it. Another cup of tea. “Did I wake you?”

“No, Ma. I was awake.” I try to smile at her, but I’m sure it comes out more like a scowl than anything.

“You haven’t slept. You haven’t eaten or had anything to drink. Elaina… please.” She sets the tray down in front of me. The bread smells wonderful, but I’m not sure I can stomach anything.

I stare at the wall in front of me, wondering if I’m dehydrated because I don’t seem to have tears left. Mom pats my hand and leaves the room, closing the door softly.

Three hours later, as I’m laying facing away from the door, staring at my curtains as the light tries to peek through the edges, mom comes back. She must think I’m asleep. She replaces my tray with a fresh cup of tea and cookies.

At seven o’clock, she comes in and finds me sitting up in my bed, staring at my dresser. She sets down a tray on my lap. Chicken pot pie. She made my favorite. She turns on the lamp and cradles my face in her hands.

“Lainey, you need to eat. Please. I’m worried about you. I won’t force you to talk to me, but you need to eat and drink something.” I don’t move. I blink and tears roll down my face. I guess I’m not completely dehydrated.

“Maeve called. She said your phone is off.” I look up at her then. “She didn’t tell me anything. And I didn’t ask. But she said she’s holding Owen off.” I nod lightly, relieved. “But I won’t for long, Elaina.”

She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves the room again.

I eventually set the tray of food on the floor. My old alarm clock tells me it’s midnight. It’s been 24 hours since I left him. I bury my face in my pillow and cry.

* * *

“It’s been 24 hours since I found you sitting in a car.” My mom is prying open the curtains and I see there’s toast and yet another cup of tea on my nightstand. “Now..” She sits on the edge of my bed. “What happened?”

I shake my head. “It’s complicated, Ma.”

“I have time. What are you running from?” She places her hand on my lap.

“Adam told me he loved me.” She knows who Adam is. She knows how we met and that we’ve been friends for a little while. She does not know he started giving me orgasms in Hawaii.

“That’s wonderful, honey.” She smiles softly, waiting for the bad news.

“That’s it, Mom. He said he loves me, and I ran away.”

“You don’t love him? Because based on the way you’ve talked about him, well…” She raises her eyebrows and when she sees the tears pooling in my eyes, I think she might be understanding. “So, you do love him. But you don’t want to.” I shrug. She’s not wrong. I don’t want to be in love again. Ever.

“I’m scared of what happens when he leaves. What will happen to me? I don’t think I can survive another man leaving me.” She opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it again. “Andy left me. I know, I know. It wasn’t my fault. But he didn’t stay. He didn’t tell me he needed help. He just left. I wasn't enough to keep him here.” I sniffle, but there are no tears.

“Then, Daddy. He didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t mean to, but it still happened.” My voice grows louder, and the roughness of my throat becomes more pronounced with each word. I attempt to swallow, but my mouth is so dry that nothing will go down. "He’s not here! Even Owen kept leaving, and we never knew if he’d come back." No matter how much the pain seems to seep through the cracks in my voice, no tears fall. "How many times can a person watch the people she loves vanish before it finally breaks her?” It's like I'm asking an impossible question, of no one in particular, that I already know the answer to.

My mom’s grip tightens on my lap. “Why would Adam leave you?”

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