Page 87 of Just Best Friends

"There's some guy pounding on the front door."

"Just a minute."

I was in no rush to explain to yet another antique flipper or garage sale scrounger that items would hit the curb when I was good and ready. I unlocked my phone.

I sucked in a breath as ice raced down my back.

Seventeen missed calls.

My fingers shook, hovering over the notification, unable to make myself open my call log. My body froze and memories of death washed over me. Seventeen calls weren't good. Seventeen calls weren't normal and the second I opened the call log, something would change, even if I couldn't say what.

A commotion in the front of the store ripped my attention away from the phone. My body, frozen in place, faintly registered one man yelling, "Hey, dude? Are you even listening? We aren't open."

A second later, Ben’s dad Pete rushed into the room, face pale, normally neatly combed hair scrubbed and flying everywhere.

"Thea, thank God. We need to go."

His words sounded muffled, as if I'd crammed cotton into my ears.

"I…" I held up the phone in explanation. "Wh—"

I couldn't form a coherent sentence, couldn't think straight. I churned through the reasons I'd have seventeen missed calls on my phone and Ben's father would be standing in front of me, only coming to a single conclusion.

"Martha got into the helicopter with Ben. The sheriff is driving us to Concord, but we need to go." He stepped forward, taking my elbow.

I resisted. "But why?"

I pulled out my phone, hands trembling and it dropped from my grasp. The phone bounced off the carpet and under my desk. "Damn it," I swore, ducking out of Pete's grip and crawling on the ground until it was back in my hands. I stood up on shaky legs.

Pete frowned, his eyes sliding to the door at the two baffled young men. He softened his voice. "Ben was hurt at work. We need to go, Thea. Right now."

He wrapped an arm around me, guiding me to the entrance, past the piles of boxes and unsorted items.

"I need to close up. The keys." A well of tears formed behind my eyes, panic setting in.

"We can do that," Jake said, swooping in beside me.

I fumbled with my purse, not even able to remember when I picked it up. When Ben's dad walked in? Before? When I was looking for my phone? My fingers brushed against the tiny butterfly charm, one Ben got me on a trip to the coast. He'd knelt on the boardwalk, wiggling free a quarter that had become lodged between the planks.

"Fate," he'd said as he stood up, directly facing a small vending machine with a giant "25 cents!" sticker on the front.

"Sorry. I meant to get rid of some of these," I said, sorting through the dozens of keys on the ring.

I hadn't thrown away a key in years. I flipped through one for my grandmother's house, long since sold, and Ben's old apartment, before he built the cabin at the rescue.

"We'll figure it out," Jake said softly, his fingers covering mine as he slipped the keys out of my fingers. "Don't worry. We'll make sure we lock the place up."

Pete pulled me gently toward the door, but I stopped him. "There's a back door."

"We've got it. I'll call my dad if we need help," Jake reassured me.

Panic welled in my chest. The second I stepped outside, everything would change. Everything would be different. I wasn't ready.

"We need to go, Thea," Pete said calmly. "For Ben."

I nodded. For Ben. Of course.

I let Pete pull me outside. The sheriff's cruiser sat in front of the store. A few worried onlookers crowded the streets. Had they driven up with the lights on? The sirens?

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