Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
P ushing through the kitchen door, I blew out a heavy sigh, releasing all the tension and fear that had been mounting all day as I waited to find out if Olivia was safe. My phone vibrated in my hand.
I had stormed off to the kitchen not only to make my calls but to take a minute to collect myself and the wave of emotions consuming me.
My phone vibrated again, and I clicked the answer button.
I yanked the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
“Hey, it's Walker." A pause filled the line. "Did you find her?"
My shoulders dropped an inch. "Olivia is home and safe." I paced the kitchen's length. "Did you find Emmett?"
"Nick." Walker's voice had gone flat. "Emmett's been missing for a few days."
My fingers tightened on the phone. "Is he dead?"
Walker drew in a breath that crackled through the speaker. "If he wasn't..." His words trailed off. "He is now or will be shortly. His last chance was you paying them when they showed up at your house."
"I couldn't do it," I explained.
"Nick," he cut me off. "You did the right thing. What he did to Olivia was wrong, and she deserves to be safe."
"I have to tell Olivia the truth." I sighed. "Let me know if you find him, please."
“Will do.”
The line went dead, leaving me alone with the hum of the refrigerator and the weight of secrets. I'd promised Olivia her brother was fine. Now those words sat like ash on my tongue.
My phone lit up again. Anthony's name on the screen sent a fresh surge of adrenaline through my system. I’d forgotten to call him and tell him we found her.
"Hey, Anthony." I held the phone to my ear. "We found her. She's safe."
"Nick." Anthony's voice scraped against my ear like sandpaper. "We found Emmett. You and Olivia need to fly home."
Each heartbeat echoed in my throat. I traced a water ring on the counter with trembling fingers. "Is he..."
"He's not dead." My knees nearly buckled. Anthony's sharp intake of breath warned me before his next words. "But they aren't sure he's going to make it. How quickly can you get here?"
My watch face caught the overhead light as I checked the time. "We can be in the air in thirty minutes."
"Nick." A coffee mug clinked in the background of his call. "You should prepare Olivia for what she's about to walk into." Beyond the kitchen door, Olivia's shadow moved across the floor. "I'll meet you at the airport." The call ended with a soft click that seemed to echo in the empty kitchen.
I froze, my gaze locking on Olivia, who was still sitting on the couch. My heart pounded against my ribs, knowing what I was about to tell her would break her heart.
"Olivia." Her name came out barely above a whisper, but she whirled to face me, shoulders squared, chin lifted—ready for battle. Then her eyes met mine, and the fight drained from her face. She knew. Some part of her already knew.
"What's wrong?" Her hand found the back of the couch, fingers curling into the fabric. When I couldn't speak, she took a step forward. "Nick!"
The space between us felt like miles. "We need to fly home." Each word cost me something. "It's Emmett."
"What happened?" She crossed the room in quick, sharp steps. Her free hand caught my wrist, grip tight enough to leave marks. "Nick, what happened?" The words tumbled out, each one higher pitched than the last, her eyes searching mine for answers I wasn't ready to give.
"I don't know exactly, but he’s hurt, and we need to leave now to catch a plane back home."
Olivia snatched her purse, scattering magazines across the coffee table before rushing out of the house, down the driveway to the car.
"Is Anthony with him?" She practically fell into the passenger seat, her seat belt clicking three times before she got it fastened. Her fingers drummed against her knee—the same nervous rhythm she'd picked up from Emmett as kids.
I gripped the steering wheel, letting the leather bite into my palms. "Yes." The engine roared to life under my touch. "He won't leave him."
I knew I should use the plane ride to New York to tell her the truth, but I didn't know if I could unload everything bad on her all at once and if it even mattered if he died. If he was gone, there was no more threat to her. Would it hurt to let her remember only the good things about her brother?