Chapter Twenty Five #3
My stomach tightens as he straightens. I don’t know anything Everest just said, or how he knows all of that. All I do know is the man who gifted it to me either sourced it or the money to pay for it illegally, and that I miss him. Clearing my throat, I cross my arms over my chest.
“What did you want to give me a head’s up about?”
Thankfully, Everest drops it and he swivels to face me.
“There’s a vigil tomorrow night for Laura.
My parents said something about support and solidarity.
We’re expected to be at the forefront, handing out candles and offering hope.
” Everest leans back, rubbing his eyes. There it is again, the exhaustion.
The anguish he’s struggling to hide. I slump onto my bed, bouncing slightly.
“Why are they really hosting it?”
“Because another girl has gone missing, and the last place she was seen was at my house.” There’s an accusation in his tone but he doesn’t put it into words. He told me to care for her. He knows this is my fault as much as anyone else.
I stare at him, my brain stalling on the image of what tomorrow night will hold.
Candles flickering in the dark, crowds gathered in solemn silence, someone’s voice cracking through a microphone about unity and community strength.
The sort of thing that looks beautiful in photographs, but does absolutely nothing to help find Laura.
For a moment, neither of us speak. My earlier thread of good mood unravels completely.
Just hours ago, I’d been on the field shouting orders, pretending for a little while that life had returned to something normal.
Now the reminder of Laura’s disappearance crashes back into place.
She was so sweet and bubbly. Against a man like Harrison, she doesn’t stand a chance.
“Where is it?” I ask.
“Central courtyard. My parents want us to both wear a pop of lilac. It’s Laura’s favorite color.”
“How considerate,” I drawl sarcastically, rubbing my palms over my face.
Exhaustion drags at my limbs, but I’m in no rush for Everest to leave.
It’s oddly comforting to not be sitting here alone, if only briefly.
When I lift my eyes from the carpet, I notice that Everest is watching me.
Something unreadable flickers across his face, gone in an instant.
The overhead light highlights his sunken eyes and throws the stubble of his jaw into shadow.
For once, the cocky arrogance he usually wears is absent.
He just sits there, hands loose against his thighs, seemingly beat after seeing his parents.
A thread of sympathy slips through me. It must be tough having to live up to someone else’s expectations all the time instead of only your own.
And also, I really should call my mom soon.
Not that I have anything good to report.
“Everest,” I start after a while, and then think twice, recoiling into myself. His brow raises, but I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid and incredibly vain.”
His green gaze sharpens immediately, like a predator scenting vulnerability. He sits upright, leaning his forearms on his thighs.
“Ask me,” he insists, his tone firm as if he already knows the question and just wants to hear me say it out loud. I swallow, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth is. My tongue wets my bottom lip before I can stop myself.
“Was there…a vigil for me?”
The question hangs in the air, my innermost fragility out there for Everest to trample all over.
His expression shifts in small, almost imperceptible ways.
His shoulders tightening, his jaw flexing once as he looks at the wall beyond my head.
When his eyes finally return to mine, the usual mockery is gone.
“Do you know that I was the one to find your blood trail?” he asks quietly, and I suck in a breath.
I didn’t know that. “There was so much of it, streaked all over the lino, so much brighter than I would have expected. I knew it had to be yours before the cops confirmed it. You’re the only one who would have been running drills alone near midnight.
You were so damn committed.” Everest’s jaw flexes again, emotions I can’t read circling his features.
“There wasn’t a vigil, but no one felt your absence more than me. I can assure you of that.”
The words slam into me with a weight I wasn’t prepared for. I blink at him, trying to read the meaning behind his words, but Everest has already pushed to his feet.. He drags a hand through his hair, the motion rougher than usual as if he regrets letting that much truth show.
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a circus.” He’s left before I can utter a single syllable, and luckily before the drop of a tear rolls down my cheek. Everest missed me? Everest…cares? That’s what I believe he just admitted.
I sit there for a few seconds longer than necessary, staring at the spot where he’d been before flopping back into my bed, the quiet of my room pressing in from all sides.
Tears fall freely, a whole days’ worth pouring out in silent sobs.
I can handle people hating me, I take disappointment in my stride, but my rival admits he cares for me and I’m a weeping mess.
It’s at that exact moment I realize how truly broken I am.