Page 54 of Not that Impressed
Instead of calling the next hotel on the list, I call Janelle.
“Anything?” she asks as a way of hello.
“Nothing.” I’m hoping Libby’s ignoring me now because I didn’t chill like she told me to last night. “Have you heard anything from Dad?”
“The FBI has searched every flight that left Houston since the last time Mom saw Libby, but neither one of them has been on any of them.” Janelle sounds as wrung out as I feel. “They don’t think it’s likely that Grayson has fake IDs, but they’re not ruling it out. Dad pushed them to check into private flights, but they want to focus resources locally. They don’t think they left Texas.”
My stomach sinks. “Are we looking in the wrong place?”Arms wrap me up from behind, and Will holds me securely against his chest. I lean my head back into him. The fear and worry and anger tighten in my chest, swelling in my throat.
I can’t do this. What if she’s not okay? What if we don’t find her?
“Libby told us she was in Cancun.” Janelle’s voice takes on a firm tone. “We have to investigate that, and look into Cabo. Just in case.”
“Yeah.” I nod to myself. Grayson likely has connections to people with private planes. It’s not far-fetched to think that he flew them out of Texas under the radar like that.
“El? Let me talk to Will, okay? Put it on speaker.”
I hit the speaker phone button and hand the phone over to him. “What’s up?” he asks.
“She needs a break,” Janelle says. “Have you guys slept at all?”
“No, and I agree.”
“Nell!” I protest. “I can sleep when we’ve found Libby.”
“Will,” she goes on, as though I haven’t said anything. “She’s overwhelmed, and she needs to clear her head. Convince her. We’ll keep working on the hotels from here, and since you guys can’t get around anywhere right now anyway, it’s okay to take a quick break. I’ll call you when we find her.”
I suck in a breath at the way she worded that.When.
Will leans his head against mine. We’ve gone from enemies to a couple faster than aBachelorepisode, and I don’t hate it. The way it feels when he grips my hand or kisses me on the temple or hugs me is more than soothing in this stressful situation—it makes me crave more.
“Promise me you’ll get some rest, El,” Janelle insists.
“Okay,” I say.
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
We hang up, and when I stand there, staring at the blank screen, Will lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed,laying me down gently. Then he slides onto the bed next to me and pulls me against him. I nestle my face into his chest and fully exhale as he wraps an arm around my back. His t-shirt is buttery soft against my cheek, and I run my hands up his chest and grip it like that will keep me grounded in the moment. But it’s him keeping me grounded. It’s him keeping me from panicking. I close my eyes and breathe him in.
“I’m so scared,” I whisper.
Will curls himself over me in a protective way. “It’s the exhaustion talking,” he says softly. “Get some sleep. Things will seem better in a few hours, I promise.”
I shake my head. “How can I sleep? How can I close my eyes when she’s out there with him somewhere? He’s horrible and maybe he’s even worse than we think.” The things that have run through my head today terrify me.
“There’s something my mom used to tell me when I was back in high school.” He speaks in a slow, methodical way, like the sleep podcasts I sometimes listen to when my mind is racing.
“What?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.
“You can’t tell the future.” He brushes his fingers along my back lightly in rhythmic strokes. “If you’re going to make up stories, they might as well be happy ones.”
“What kind of pessimistic stories did teenage Will tell himself?” My words are slow and sluggish. I try to picture him younger but it’s impossible. Wrapped up in him like this, my brain will only conjure a muscled Will Pemberton with shaggier hair.
“That I would have to go to a junior college. That a good D-one school wouldn’t pick me. That I was too small.” He says each phrase lazily.
I can’t help a small laugh. “Too small.”
