Chapter 26
EMMA
I lean against the wall of the hallway, staring ahead as I wait for Myles to change.
I’m excited to see him play again. I used to go to all of his Little League games, sitting in the bleachers and cheering him on even though it embarrassed him.
He hated being noticed, but it was hard to blend in when I was shouting his name at the top of my lungs each time he came up to bat.
Baseball isn’t my favorite sport. The games take forever and I had a hard time focusing. But each time Myles played, suddenly I was all in. I’d cheer and clap every time he hit the ball.
Sometimes he’d even play with me in the backyard, but I never could follow the rules. If he hit the ball and took off running, I’d tackle him even if he made it to the base.
“You’re cheating!” he’d say.
“I’m just hugging you!” I’d push him off the base and tag him with the ball. “Got you.”
There was always a hint of a glare in his eye, but I knew he liked it. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have kept asking me to play.
Myles rushes out of the locker room, but he’s still wearing the same clothes as before. His face is red and he scrubs his cheek with his hand to wipe away tears.
“What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t stop. He keeps walking.
“Myles,” I say, following him. “What happened? Why aren’t you getting ready for the game?”
“I’m not playing.”
This doesn’t make sense. He has to play. That’s the whole reason we came back.
Myles’s jaw is tight as he flees down the hallway. I haven’t seen him this upset in a long time and I want to help, but I need him to slow down.
I reach for him, my hand around his arm. “Please talk to me.”
He stops finally, abruptly, as he spins around to face me. “My mom is here, and she knows what I did.”
I step back, afraid to make him more upset.
He catches his breath, eyebrows dipping as he notices the added distance. He arches over and rubs his forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“How did she find out?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but she knows I stole the test and that I’ve been lying to her.”
Did Mallory tell her? It doesn’t make sense because if she told her he stole the test, she’d have to admit he’d done it for her. She’d be in trouble too, wouldn’t she?
“Do you think Mallory said something?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “But it’s all over.”
I push away my questions and focus on him because I need to help him feel better. It’s like the need is still etched into me.
I test the space between us by inching closer, and he doesn’t try to stop me. I wipe his cheek, leaving my hand on his face. “No, you didn’t. Your mom will understand.”
He bites his lip and shakes his head. “She probably hates me.”
“She doesn’t.” She could never hate him. I know that. “She’ll understand if you talk to her. She loves you.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “I hurt her. I told her I can’t stand being around her and Adam.”
I stare at the eyes I know so well. The curls on his head. The pink hue of his cheeks.
He’s the same. He’s the same boy I grew up with who misses his father. He’s not a killer. He’s crying in front of me because he knows he hurt his mother.
“Then go back and apologize.”
“I can’t,” he chokes.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know how.” His voice strains as he forces each word out. He brings his hands to his head, wrapping his fingers in his curls and pulling on them. “I’m horrible.”
“Myles, stop. You are not.”
“I am,” he says, voice cracking. He kicks at the ground, and I know it’s because he’s frustrated with himself. I’ve seen it before. The way he’s so sensitive he has to make sure everyone else is okay because if he doesn’t, he feels their pain.
“Let’s go back. I’ll go with you,” I say.
“I need to get out of here,” he says, tears pleading with me. He starts walking again, quick and chaotic.
I know they need to talk more. This is a conversation he’s been putting off and nothing will get better until his mom knows what he’s going through, but I can’t force him to if he’s not ready. He needs to calm down first.
I follow him outside, scurrying down the steps to keep up with him. He walks straight to his car, throwing his duffel bag into the back seat roughly.
His eyes glisten in the light as he fumbles with the front door handle.
I hesitate on the other side of the car. I don’t think he should be driving right now.
He yanks the car door open and gets inside, hurried, like he’s running away.
I’m nervous to get in the car with him like this. It reminds me of myself when my mom left. I shouldn’t have gotten into the car then. I don’t think anyone should get in a car when they’re this upset.
But I can’t stop him, so I take a deep breath and get in despite the alarm bells ringing in my head. I can’t leave him alone.
I buckle, and the next thing I know he’s backing up the car and we’re driving. He’s flying out of the parking lot on the edge of too fast.
His hands are white from gripping the steering wheel. His tears are silent, but that’s how he always was. He keeps to himself so much that even when his heart breaks, it’s quiet.
Somehow that’s a million times worse than someone who says exactly how they feel. I want to know what’s going through his mind, but I don’t want him to shut down more than he already has.
I grip the door as the car turns, bracing for the jolt.
We continue down the road, but I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t think he knows either. He’s just fleeing.
Ahead of us the light switches to yellow, and my pulse spikes when he doesn't slow. In seconds it turns red and we enter the intersection.
“Myles!” I yell as a horn blares to our right with a screech of tires.
A light flashes above us as we pass through.
Myles immediately pulls the car over. He throws it into park and jerks his hands away from the steering wheel like it’s a weapon. There’s no color in his face, and his breathing is quick.
He turns to me with eyes wide, scared. “Are you okay?”
I nod because I’m too stunned to speak. A shiver runs down my spine when I think of how close we were to getting hit.
Myles’s hand covers his mouth and he arches forward until his head rests on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry,” he cries before hitting the car.
“Myles,” I say, resting my hand on his back. “We’re okay.”
“I almost got us killed!”
“Nothing bad happened.” I peer back at the intersection. “And the other car left, so it’ll be fine. Let’s just try to calm down before you start driving again.”
He moves again, shifting back into the seat, and shakes his head. “I just gave my mom another reason to be disappointed in me.”
“What are you talking about? It’s not like I’m going to tell her.”
“It took my picture.” His watery eyes meet mine. “I’m going to get a ticket in the mail.”
I freeze.
A ticket? Like the one Sam showed me in my timeline? “No,” I say. “There’s no way.” Myles isn’t a killer. He isn’t going to hurt Mallory, but if this is the same ticket Sam showed me, then that means the past isn’t changing.
“There was a flash.”
I shake my head. “No, you can’t get a ticket.”
His mouth falls open as he searches for words and his brows meet. “I can’t change it.”
Can’t change it.
Does this mean I’ve already tried to save Mallory and failed? That I’ve done all of this before?
“No,” I say, heart falling. A shiver runs down my spine as I refuse to believe it. “You can’t.”
His sadness softens, switching to confusion. “Why not?”
I don’t want to tell him because I don’t want it to be true. “I’ve seen it.”
His head tilts, clearly not processing what I’m saying. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen the ticket in the future. This has already happened, which means Mallory is still going to die!” My voice snaps like a broken record.
“No, she isn’t. I’m mad at myself, not her. I swear I won’t hurt her.” He speaks so fast that the words fall out of his mouth jumbled, running into each other. “I’m with you right now.”
What he’s saying is right, so why doesn’t it make me feel better?
Tears sting my eyes as I rip my phone out of my pocket. I dial Mallory's number and hold the phone up to my ear as my breath shakes. I bite my lip to try and stop it from trembling, and I shake my head again as a hot tear rolls down my cheek.
The phone rings and rings, but Mallory doesn't answer.
I need to hear her voice to make sure she’s okay.
“Something’s wrong,” I say.
Myles touches me. His hand is on my shoulder, a touch so gentle that I almost don’t feel it. “I’m right here in front of you, so nothing’s going to happen.”
“I need to hear her voice.” I need proof that she’s okay. I need to have my arms wrapped around her.
“What do you want me to do?” His tears have been replaced by worry, and I have his full attention like I’m distracting him from his own pain.
I need to find her.
My heart is beating out of my chest, afraid every decision I make is wrong, but I’m convinced Myles won’t hurt her. “Take me home.”
He takes a deep breath and starts driving while I try to call Mallory again. With every ring my anxiety goes up. Why isn’t she answering me? Is she still upset with me? Is that why she didn’t bother finding out why I skipped school?
There are so many questions in my brain it’s about to explode.
She doesn’t answer and the phone goes straight to voicemail.
Myles steals glances at me and then he grabs my hand. “It’s going to be okay. She’ll be there.”
“She will,” I say, trying to convince myself he’s right. We’re going to drive to the house and walk in to see her studying like always. She’ll yell at me to get out of her room.
“I won’t let go. I promise.”
I grip his hand tighter like it’ll fuse us together. If we’re together, nothing bad will happen.
The drive is short and when we pull up, I let out a sigh of relief. Mallory’s car is in the driveway.
“She’s here,” I whisper.
The second the car stops, I jump out. Myles hurries around the car, taking my hand again, and together we walk toward the door.
The future is wrong.
I know it is. It has to be.
I’m going to walk in and Mallory is going to be here.
I step inside. “Mallory?”
There’s no reply, but I tell myself she’s just ignoring me.
I rush up the steps, calling her name again as I run into her room.
The room is empty. Perfect as always. There’s no clutter or dust. It’s almost like there’s no sign she’s been home.
“Maybe she’s in the bathroom,” Myles suggests, but I don’t hear him.
I’m drawn to her bed. There’s a sheet of paper lying in the center of the pink comforter. It’s her handwriting, but it’s not as neat as usual. It’s rough and loose like she was writing it in a rush.
By the time you read this, I’ll be gone.
I’m sorry for what I did.
I’m sorry for disappointing you.
But I can’t live with myself anymore.
The letter turns into lead and it falls through my hands.
There’s screaming and I’m so numb it takes me a moment to realize it’s coming from me.
Myles grabs the letter and I flee the room.
My eyes blur all over again. “Mallory!” I yell at the top of my lungs. I run through every room in the house, trying to find her, but she isn’t in here.
I plow through the door, screaming her name.
What did I miss while I was gone today? How could I have been so oblivious to her pain? I should’ve known she needed help when I found the homework, but I was so focused on keeping Myles away from her I didn’t see how badly she was hurting.
My voice is raw, but I keep calling for her.
Myles is right beside me, face pale with the note in his hand.
I pull out my phone again, sobbing, desperate to be misunderstanding her note. I press her contact and hold the phone to my ear.
The phone picks up on the other end, but she doesn’t say anything. There’s only the faint sound of water.
“Mallory?” I cry, rubbing my forehead with my other hand. “Tell me where you are!”
“I’m sorry,” she cries.
“Don’t be sorry!” My breath catches, and my chest is too tight. “Tell me where you are!”
“He knows what I did,” she says.
I feel sick to my stomach. “Who does?”
“Dad.”
I think back to our last conversation and how upset she was at the idea of Dad finding out her secret.
“It’ll be okay. Tell me where you are and we’ll figure out what to do.”
“It won’t be okay,” she cries.
“It will be. I promise. I’ve made mistakes before and it’s always okay.”
Her faint sobs on the other end of the call are breaking my heart. I want to hug her and tell her that her life doesn’t have to be defined by one mistake.
“Goodbye, Emma,” she says in a tired breath.
“No, Mallory!” I scream into the phone, but she hangs up.
I spin around as if I’ll be able to spot her, but she’s nowhere in sight.
I grab Myles. “We have to find her!”
He doesn’t speak, but I can tell by his eyes that his brain is in overdrive, trying to figure out how to fix this.
“Water,” I say, replaying every detail of our call. “There was water in the background.”
We lock eyes, and I know he’s thinking the same thing. “She’s at the bridge.”