Page 38 of Jessica's Hero
My tears flow faster.
My chest feels carved out. Aching.
Then my phone rings, startling me so badly I drop it on the floor.
I scoop it up after three missed tries to find Kane’s name splashed across the screen.
Voice wobbling, I answer, “Kane…”
“What happened? Where are you?” It’s rough. Worried. Tense.
“In the living room.” A shuddering sob escapes. “Someone broke the windows. And my mom’s?—”
“Jess. I need you to hide. Right now.”
“I don’t think anyone’s?—”
His tone gentles. “Sweetheart. I need you to get someplace safe. Now. The bathroom if you can. A room that locks. And I need you to wait there for me.”
I cast another look around the living room, more tears spilling free when I spot the framed photo of me and my mom with a spiderweb of cracks across the glass covering it. “Kane. I don’t understand. I’m not a bad person. I’m not.”
An engine roars to life in the background. Then a beat later, soothingly, “Sweetheart, I know you’re not. You’renot a bad person at all. But listen to me. I need you to get someplace safe. I’ll be right there. I promise. Please just hide, okay?”
Amid the turmoil roiling inside me, I cling to his voice. To his promise. To doing what Kane asks me to do, because I trust him.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I think upstairs is safe. I’ll hide in the bathroom up there.”
Kane exhales, his breath gusting over the phone. “Good. And just stay on the phone with me, okay? Keep talking to me until I get to you. Alright?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Okay.”
Then, in a tiny voice, I ask, “You promise you’re coming?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I promise.”
CHAPTER 8
KANE
Worry and fear and rage keep crashing into me in alternating waves.
Every muscle in my body is tense as I fight the urge to drive faster. I’m already twenty miles over the speed limit and it’s still not enough. My jaw is clenched so tightly slivers of pain radiate through it. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
Rage pulses hot and furious; a throbbing echo in my head.
Who the fuck did this to her?
Is Jess okay?
Is she safe? Hurt? Scared?—
Shit. Of course she’s scared. I could hear it in her voice the second she answered the phone.
I’mscared.
There are too many what-ifsnot to be.
What if—despite the evidence to the contrary—someoneisin Jess’s house?
