Page 34 of Save Me
His thumb rubs circles on the back of my hand, and his quiet strength seeps into me.
A few silent moments pass before I dare to voice another thought. “What if she’s...”
“Don’t,” Quen cuts me off firmly but gently. “Don’t torture yourself with those thoughts until we know more.”
I nod, swallowing down the fear and forcing myself to believe in the best-case scenario despite how difficult that feels right now.
In the quiet darkness of my room, my thoughts swirl, and the cold hand of dread chokes me.
What if my dad did something to her?
He waspissedwhen he found out about the money. It wasn’t an act. He was surprised and angry. But Mum must’ve had a good reason for keeping it. Maybe she is a secret gambler and had debts to pay. Christ knows these mafia guys don’t fuck about when it comes to their business. That Jones guy drifts into my head, and it turns into my mum battered and left for dead somewhere.
“Fuck!” I gasp, sitting up, feeling sick.
“Hey,” Quen murmurs, sitting up as well and wrapping his arms around me. “We’ll find out what’s happened, I swear.”
I nod, not wanting to tell him my fears. He might take offence, or maybe he knows something I don’t, and I’ll see it written all over his face.
Settling back down, the knot in my stomach is painful, but I turn into him, resting my head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat, lulling me into a state of less panic. I’m being ridiculous. This is all some big misunderstanding.
“I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. I climb off the bed, shove my boots back on, and grab my backpack. “I need to go now.”
“So we’ll go,” he says, following me.
The rest of the guys are still in the living room and look up when I storm in. “We’re going now.”
“We’ll arrive there in the early hours,” Callum points out.
“I have my key. I’ll let myself in, make sure she’s okay.”
With nods of agreement, we leave the penthouse, a unit of purpose, descending in the elevator. The silence isn’t awkward; it’s charged with the support of four guys who stand with me against whatever messed up stuff life throws at us.
Thayer’s SUV sits like a beast on the drive, next to the sedan we drove home in, dark and formidable. He slides into the driver’s seat, bringing the engine to life with a growl that vibrates through the concrete underfoot. Harry takes shotgun, while me, Cal, and Quen pile into the back. The doors slam shut with finality, sealing us inside this bubble of determined tension.
As we pull out onto the street, the city lights streak by like fleeting thoughts. Each mile takes us closer to Westfield, to answers, or maybe to more questions. I can’t predict which, but with these guys, I don’t have to face the unknown alone.
“Music?” Harry asks a simple offer to fill the weighty silence.
“Sure,” I murmur, though I’m not sure I’ll hear it over the pounding of my own heart. Something’s waiting for us in Westfield, something crucial and possibly ugly.
The B roads turn into A roads and then motorways. Thayer keeps a steady pace—not too slow, not too quick—which is exactly what my flip-flopping mind needs.
I must nod off at some point because I wake up with a jolt, leaning against Quen. Blinking, I swallow back the sudden attack of nerves.
The familiar cracked sidewalks of Westfield swim into view under the streetlights. It’s like watching my life rewind, each turn a flashback to a time before scholarships and Crestmont’s ivy-covered walls.
“Almost there,” Thayer murmurs when he sees me awake in the rearview mirror. His voice is quiet but sure as if he senses the whirlwind inside me.
Buildings rise, worn but resilient, holding memories of scraped knees and dreams too big for their narrow alleys. The SUV slows, crawling now, past the corner shop where I watched my friends buying sweets, but I had no money for any, past the park where I’d bury my nose in books, trying to imagine a world beyond these streets.
“You okay?” Quen murmurs.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”
But am I? This place is my past, and it’s where I wanted to keep it, but now I’m here twice in two days, and it’s like I’m going around in circles.
The SUV stops outside a rundown block of flats, the engine idling softly. No one rushes to get out. I don’t ask how he knew where to go. Of course he knows.
