The Problem with Forever

I sat down on the bed and I didn’t move. Minutes turned into hours. The sky darkened outside the window. I lay down, holding the phone close. My head was strangely empty except for a low buzz, like it felt when I had a head cold. I must’ve fallen asleep, because when I blinked, sunlight was cutting through the blinds. Tiny particles of dust danced in the streams. Mouth dry, I sat up and looked away. I stared at the closed door, knowing I’d left it open yesterday. For a few minutes I couldn’t remember exactly why there was this horrible churning in the pit of my stomach.

Jayden.

My body jerked as I twisted at the waist, scanning the bed for my phone. There! It was between my pillows. I dug it out and hit the screen. No missed calls or texts.

Staring at my phone, I told myself that the reason Rider hadn’t called or texted was that he was with Hector. Reassuring me wasn’t his top priority. I understood that, but fear blossomed in the pit of my stomach, and nausea rose. Rider was okay. There was no reason for him not to be. The fear gave way to bone-deep dread.

I threw my legs off the bed and rushed out into the hall, into the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I dropped to my knees and retched. Nothing came up. Not really. I dry-heaved until my ribs ached, and I sat there, breathing heavily.

Slowly, painfully, I stood and grabbed my toothbrush. Turning the water on, I brushed my teeth and then washed my face, wincing when the cleanser and hot water hit my cheeks. When I looked up, I saw my reflection. Tiny marks splattered my cheeks. Shadows were painted into the skin under my eyes. My hair was still a little damp from sleeping on it wet, and at the moment it was the color of wine, and going in every other direction. I pushed away from the sink and walked back into the bedroom. Each step felt immeasurably slow.

Nothing felt... Nothing felt real as I picked up my phone again.

“Mallory?” Carl called from downstairs. “Can you come down here?”

I clenched the phone in my hand and hurried down, finding them both sitting at the kitchen table. I slowed as I approached the island. They looked like they hadn’t slept much the night before. His gray shirt was wrinkled. Stray hairs escaped Rosa’s short ponytail, fanning her face like little fingers.

“Why don’t you come sit down?” Carl advised gently. Coffee mugs sat in front of them and the scent was heavy in the air.

Sensing that this wasn’t going to be a conversation I wanted to stick around for, I stayed where I was.

He looked at Rosa and then continued. “How are you feeling?”

I thought...I thought that was an incredibly stupid question.

“I know what you just saw was a lot to deal with. A lot, and Rosa and I both wished you would never have to experience something like that again.”

Again?

Then it hit me. How could I forget? He was talking about Miss Becky. Besides the dull eyes, this was nothing like finding Miss Becky in her b

ed, long dead and cold to the touch. I didn’t know the specifics, but her death had been peaceful compared to Jayden’s. Her death was nothing like Jayden’s.

“And we know that right now is a tough time,” Carl went on, and I blinked, wondering if I’d missed half of what he’d said. “But this conversation can’t wait.”

“What...?” I looked between them as I placed my phone on the island. “What can’t?”

“Rider.” Rosa picked up her coffee mug. “We need to talk about Rider.”

My brows flew up. “Why?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Carl stated, his tone gentle but firm. “What happened yesterday—”

“Has nothing to do with Rider,” I interrupted.

Surprise flickered across Carl’s face and then was gone so quickly I wasn’t sure I actually saw it. “I’m going to have to disagree with that.”

“Both of us are,” Rosa joined in. “You would never have been anywhere near that neighborhood if it weren’t for Rider.”

“What’s wrong with that neighborhood?” I demanded, and Carl raised his brow. “Yeah, it’s not the greatest—it’s not the Pointe or where Ainsley lives, but it’s not the worst in this city.”

“It’s not a good place, Mallory.” Carl folded his hands around his mug. “Now, I know you haven’t seen a lot of this city, but we have. We—”

“I have seen the worst shit this city has to offer and it has nothing to do with the neighborhood.” Anger flashed through me, bright as the sun, and I vaguely realized that I hadn’t paused once while speaking. I was too—too pissed to care.

“Mallory,” warned Rosa. “Language.”

“My language? I saw someone get shot—” My voice cracked. “I saw a friend die yesterday and you’re blaming Rider for this?”