9. Bonnie
BONNIE
L awson’s phone was on his bed, and the house was empty.
I found it when I got home from the library—sitting faceup on the rumpled sheets of his unmade bed.
He’d left it behind on purpose.
My stomach folded in on itself as I picked it up and stared at the home screen. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the time—7:48 PM—and a stupid wallpaper photo.
He knew about the tracking app. Of course he did. He was fourteen, not stupid. And this was his answer—walk out the door and leave the one thing I used to find him sitting on his bed like a middle finger.
I set his phone on the kitchen counter and pulled mine out of my pocket. The tracking app was useless now—the blue dot blinked from our house because his phone was here with me.
How was I going to find him now?
I could call the police, except what would I say? My fourteen-year-old brother left the house without his phone? They’d tell me to wait. Kids do this sometimes. They’d tell me he’ll come home soon.
Darren’s address came to mind, and I grabbed my keys, but I stopped at the front door. If I showed up there again, I’d only make things worse. Last time, Lawson didn’t speak to me for two days. This time would be worse. I could feel it.
I exhaled a puff of air.
Waiting for him to come home on his own was my only option.
The hours crawled. I tried to study, opening up my notebook and going over the latest section of notes I’d taken, but closed it after ten minutes because the words were swimming and my leg wouldn’t stop bouncing under the table.
I tried to eat. I even heated up some leftover soup, but after two spoonfuls, I dumped it down the drain because eating made me feel like I might vomit.
So, I cleaned the kitchen. I wiped down the counters, did the dishes, scrubbed the sink, and swept the floor.
When I ran out of things to clean, I stood at the living room window and watched the street.
There were no headlights or lanky shadows coming up the driveway.
Ten o’clock came.
Then eleven.
Where the hell was he?
I sat on the couch with my phone in hand, refreshing the tracking app out of habit even though I knew it was pointless. The blue dot sat on our address, mocking me.
At eleven thirty, I moved to the kitchen and sat at the table with my head in my hands. The house was so quiet I could hear the fridge humming and the faucet dripping.
Was he with Cade? With Darren? Was he safe? Was he in trouble?
Was he ever coming back?
The front door opened at twelve twenty.
I was on my feet before the sound finished registering. Lawson stepped inside, and the smell hit me first—cigarette smoke and sweat. He looked wired and keyed up. His green eyes were too bright, and his movements were too jerky as he kicked his sneakers off by the door.
“Where have you been?” My voice came out steadier than I expected.
He didn’t look at me. “Out.”
“It’s after midnight.”
“So?”
“So you’re fourteen. You left your phone here on purpose. I had no way to reach you, no way to find you. Do you understand how?—”
“How what?” He faced me, and his expression stopped me cold. It wasn’t the sullen indifference I’d gotten used to. It was pure defiance. “How scared you were? How worried? How you didn’t know where I was or what I was doing?”
“Yes. All of that.”
“Good.” The word came out sharp. “Now you know how it felt.”
The air left my lungs. He wasn’t talking about tonight. He was talking about the two years I was gone.
“Lawson—”
“Don’t.” He dropped his backpack on the floor. Something inside it clanked—heavy and metallic sounding. “Don’t give me the speech about how you came back and you’re trying and I should be grateful. I’ve heard it.”
“What’s in the bag?”
His jaw tensed. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“It’s my stuff.”
I stepped toward the backpack. He snatched it off the floor and clutched it to his chest.
“Lawson, what’s in that bag?”
“None of your business!” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a second the defiance slipped, showing something raw underneath—something scared.
Then it was gone, buried under anger again in two seconds flat.
“You don’t get to control every part of my life.
You don’t get to track my phone and search my stuff and decide who I’m allowed to hang out with. ”
“I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“From what? From my friends? From the only people who actually give a shit about me?”
“They don’t give a shit about you!” The words erupted out of me louder than I intended.
“Darren is using you, Lawson. He used Dad. He was part of the operation—he helped run the pills out of those caverns. And when it all fell apart, he walked away and let Dad take the fall. That is who you’re spending your time with.
A man who will use you up and throw you away the second you’re not useful anymore. ”
Lawson stared at me. His chest was heaving and his eyes were narrowed.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but his voice had lost some of its edge.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about. Ask anyone in this town.”
“Shut up.”
“He’s dangerous. He’s not your friend, and Cade isn’t either. They’re?—”
“Shut up!” Lawson’s face was red. “You don’t know them like I do. Cade is the only person who doesn’t look at me like I’m a criminal. Darren checks on me. He asks how I’m doing. He showed up, Bonnie. For years. Where were you?”
The words landed hard, and they hit the same bruised spot they always did.
“You left,” he continued, his voice shaking. “Mom left. Dad’s gone. Everyone leaves. And now you want me to walk away from the only people who didn’t? Because you have a bad feeling about them?”
“It’s more than a bad feeling.”
“It’s not enough.” His chin trembled. For one horrible second, I thought he was going to cry. Instead, he hitched the backpack higher on his shoulder, pushed past me, and headed for the front door.
“Lawson, don’t.”
“I need air.”
“It’s late. You’re not leaving this house again tonight.”
“Watch me.”
The door slammed shut behind him. The sound echoed through the empty house.
I made it as far as the front porch. His shadow was already at the end of the street, moving fast. I could go after him. Heck, I probably should. Drag him back.
But then what?
Every time I went after him, he came back angrier. Every time I tightened my grip, he pulled away harder.
Parenting sucked sometimes.
I stood on the porch and watched him disappear around the corner. My hands shook as I went back inside.
My whole body did.
The house pressed in on me from every side. It was too quiet, too empty, and too full of all the things I’d said wrong, and all the things I hadn’t said at all.
I made it to the kitchen before my legs gave out. I sank to the floor with my back against the cabinets and my knees pulled to my chest.
I’d lost him.
Maybe not permanently, but I could feel him slipping away from me the way water slips through your fingers—slow and steady, no matter how hard you try to hold it.
What was in that backpack? What had he been doing for Darren tonight? Or Cade?
My phone sat on the counter above me. I reached up and grabbed it. The screen glowed in the dark kitchen—12:39 AM.
I could still go after Lawson. Maybe I should. Maybe it was what he wanted. Maybe he didn’t. I didn’t know what to do about my brother anymore, but I knew who I wanted to talk to.
Gray.
My thumb hovered over his name in my contacts. I’d told myself I’d never use it when he gave it to me. Yet, here I was.
It was almost one in the morning, though. He was probably asleep. Normal people were asleep at this hour.
Even so, I called him.
It rang once.
Twice.
He picked up on the third ring, and his voice came through clear and alert—not groggy or annoyed.
“Bonnie?”
One word. My name. That was all it took for whatever had been holding me together to uncoil.
“Gray.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Lawson’s gone. We got into another argument, and he walked out. I don’t know where he is.”
Barely a heartbeat passed.
“I’ll help you look for him. What’s your address? I’ll come pick you up.”