Page 7 of Aviator
Our neighbors, a young family in their late twenties with a baby boy around six months old, bounce out of their house—all smiles. Their happy voices carry over the wind as they load up their car with the car seat, stroller, and diaper bag. That should have been the life my sisters had. Two happy, caring parents. Not me. The girl who has no idea what she’s doing on a good day.
At the sound of Kady’s name, the three girls stop getting into the car, and their eyes focus on me. I’m pinned in place with my keys in one hand and my phone pressed against my ear in the other.
“What’s going on?” Klaire takes this step away from her sisters, worry now etched on her too-young face.
I have to keep calm for them—story of my life. It won’t help anyone if I start freaking out. “Get your sisters in the car. Everything’s fine.” Sweet Klaire, who is much too old for her age, seems to read the tone in my voice. Her mouth firming, she softly says, “C’mon,” and her sisters follow her without resistance.
Turning back to my phone, I realize there’s silence on the other end of the line now. My stomach begins to quake, the coffee churning sickeningly. “Kady,” I plead into my phone. “Please talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Who is with you?”
Because certainly, the man she’s screaming at can’t be her boyfriend, Jamie. The thought is incomprehensible. Sure, he’s got mysterious secrets and is broody as all hell, but he’s gentle with her. That’s what I called him the first day they met—the gentle giant. Hands so big they could practically wrap around her slight waist and a deep-gravelly voice that seriously makes her swoon. Jamie would never do anything that would make Kady so frightened. . .
Would he?
Dozens of memories play repeatedly in my mind as I begin to panic. Meeting Jamie at a July 4thcelebration our town throws every year. Him coming back from deployment a different man and breaking it off with Kady. Now Kady texting to say they were going on a trip to sort things out. I thought it was a good thing; I’ve never seen Kady so gone for a man. But had I made a terrible mistake assuming she’d be safe with him?
My ears strain for something, anything. I swear I can hear a struggle: a rustling of clothes and a body colliding against something solid before the phone clatters to the ground.
Then I finally hear one word, but it’s enough to make my stomach squeeze. “Kady.”
Then the line goes dead.
My heart tumbles to my feet. Because the voice I heard wasn’t Kady’s, but I still recognized it.
Jamie.
“Kenna, c’mon. We’re going to be late,” I hear Krystal say through the buzzing in my head.
Her voice spurs me into action. I put my phone in my pocket, climb in the driver’s seat, and reverse out of the driveway, all while my brain is trying to sort through everything that just happened. The girls’ squabbles are like white noise as I drive to school by habit. I try to call Kady’s cell again—at least a half dozen times—but the calls all go straight to voicemail.
Christmas decorations that still haven’t been taken down sparkle in the corner of my eye. The school bell rings, and I watch the girls split off on the front sidewalk—the two younger ones to the elementary school building and Klaire to the high school—in a daze. Finally, a horn honks behind me and snaps me out of it. I see an irate mother still in her pajamas and messy bun, gesticulating wildly at the empty space in front of me. The car in front of me has already pulled through the stop sign.
Focus, Kenna. What’s your next move?
The girls are my priority. I text my dad to see if he can pick them up after school, but I don’t hold my breath. He may live in town, but we see him at most once every few months. For someone who has a bunch of kids scattered around the area, he doesn’t seem to have much interest in them. At least not in the five of us.
Because I don’t know what else to do, I just drive to work. Garrett will be there, and he’ll know what to do. He always somehow knows how to make my thoughts shuffle back into order.
While sitting in the parking lot waiting for the office manager to unlock the building, I bring out my phone and try her number again—no dice. I look up her social media but have no luck there either. She’s never been one to post every detail, anyway. Kady was always too busydoingthings to take time to post about them, and I had no time due to the three other mouths to feed.
As a last resort, I video call Riley. Naturally, she answers immediately, her half-made-up face filling the screen. My insides immediately unclench, and I breathe a little easier. “Don’t tell me you’re already at work,” she says as she widens her eyes to swipe on mascara. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.” Riley curses as she gets mascara in her eyes, and they begin to water. She fumbles to prop her phone up so she can have both hands free.
“I like to be early. But that’s not why I’m calling. Kady called me this morning.”
Riley snorts as she takes out a thick pair of lashes and starts applying glue. I knew I’d forgotten something this morning. Lashes. I check my reflection in the rearview mirror and curse under my breath. I may as well be naked without them.
“She better have a good excuse for missing dress shopping. Really, you should let me be maid of honor.”
If it were anyone else, I would have ripped them a new one, but Riley has been my friend for most of our twenties, and she may as well be family at this point. “She didn’t. Riles, I think she’s in trouble.”
Riley blinks rapidly, checking her appearance in the mirror somewhere above her phone. “What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know. . . I mean, I can’t be sure. When she called, it sounded like she was fighting someone off.” I gulp in air, trying not to relive the panic I felt. “Then I heard Jamie’s voice. I think they’re in trouble.”
Pausing her lipstick application, Riley’s brows furrow. “Is this some sort of joke? Are you and Kady punking me or something?” The half smile on her lips fades as she studies my expression. “You’re not kidding, are you? Honey-butt, they were probably just messing around and butt-dialed you while they were doing it.”
I dig my fingers into my eyelids and wince, hoping I didn’t ruin all the work I put in making my makeup perfect B.T.C.—before the call. “I’m not kidding. She sounded terrified. I’ve been trying to call her back all morning, but I just get voicemail. What if they’re really in trouble?”
“Look, let’s be rational about this. Do you guys share your location with each other?”
