Page 101 of Forgotten Pieces

My knees crashing to the ground.

My vision blurs.

I can barely hear or see Tacoma rushing over to me.

My eyes filling with tears.

I can’t even remember the last time I cried.

Tacoma’s arms wrap around me as I lean over the ground, finding any way to breathe.

She doesn’t say anything.

She just holds me, running her hands up and down my back.

We sit there until long after the sun sets when I finally find the words to speak. “She’s dead.”

Tacoma stiffens, her arms freezing their soothing rhythm. “I’m so sorry, Ryder. I’m so, so sorry.”

* * *

Tacoma

I watch from a grove of trees. I wish I could get closer, but I can’t. No one would understand why I am at Ryder’s mom’s funeral.

I wish for nothing more than to be there holding his hand as I see him sit so stoically. I can tell by the clench in his jaw he is trying not to cry.

The service is about to end and I head toward the parking lot before anyone can see me. I sit in my car and watch as Ryder thanks people for coming. We make eye contact for a second before he turns his back to me.

I hope I haven’t lost him.

* * *

I stare at the stars glued to Laney’s ceiling in her bedroom. After the funeral I came here and finally told her everything. She assured me no one knew a thing. And I breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing I need is for rumors to spread about us.

She watches TV, asking me every few minutes if I am okay. I just nod. I haven’t heard from Ryder since the funeral. And it only intensifies my fear that he is going to up and leave now that his mom is no longer here. From everything he’s told me I know that is how he deals with pain.

My phone starts ringing from somewhere on the floor and I bolt off the bed. Ryder’s name flashes across the screen. I bite my lip with worry. He never calls.

“Hello?” I whisper into the phone.

“Birdie, I need you,” Ryder slurs into the phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“I messed up, birdie.”

I can hear a man shouting in the background and the hair stiffens on the back of my neck. “What—what happened?”

“Can you—you come pick me up?” he asks. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Just tell me where.”

I manage to decipher the address and hang up the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Laney asks.

I shake my head. “I’m not sure. He sounded drunk. He needs me to pick him up. He gave me some address in Towson. Said he shouldn’t have gone…”

---