Chapter Twenty

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Mom may not want to look me in the eye or answer me, but I plan to keep staring at her until she does both of these things. All I want is the truth.

When she replies, it isn't much of one. "You heard."

The two words send fury coursing through me. By acknowledging I've heard the news, she's also owned up to knowing what happened. She hasn't tried to deny it. I study her, taking note of the creases on her forehead in the spot between her eyebrows and just above the bridge of her nose. The creases always appear when her stress level is high.

"How long have you known?" I force myself to stay calm. The last thing I need is to let my temper ignite and start an argument. I don't have many options for places to go to simmer down if I do.

Her voice is quiet. "I had a call from an officer on the case this morning while you were out for a run."

"You found out this morning and didn't tell me?" My question comes out louder and more shrill than I intend for it to.

"I was going to tell you tonight. You came back from your run so happy and with plans for the day with Hunter. I wanted you to have fun and not have your mind dwelling on this."

"It's too late for that," I mutter under my breath. I can't look at her, so I occupy myself with removing my shoes and placing them near the door.

"I didn't think there was a risk of you learning about it from someone other than me." Mom's posture is rigid and she sounds defensive now. "How did you find out? Were you looking at something on Hunter's phone, or--"

I interrupt her. "No, actually, and I'd never ask to use his phone to get around your rules if that's what you're thinking. Thanks for the trust, though."

I clamp my mouth shut before more spills out. My sarcasm isn't necessary, and I hope I'm not digging myself into a world of trouble. If I end up on cottage arrest and can't go out for morning jogs or to see Hunter once he's back, the solitude and boredom of staring at the ceiling might be my undoing.

"I do trust you. I didn't mean to imply anything."

"Good, because Hunter is innocent and so am I. A radio was on and I heard the news report." I omit the part about the panic attack I had in front of Hunter after what I heard.

Mom scratches her neck. A faint sigh escapes her. "I'm sorry you found out that way."

"Me too. Do you know how Sawyer is taking it?"

"No. The officer I spoke with didn't mention Sawyer. I think the part about him being on the list is just a rumor."

"One that had to come from somewhere and must have spread pretty fast if it's made headline news in Canada," I point out. "He has to be losing his mind, especially when he's getting ready to go on tour."

I try to imagine what Sawyer must be thinking right now. How would I feel if I was still on the tour and had gotten the news that someone could still be out there in the shadows, waiting to do something unthinkable like what happened at The Domino? While heightened security is guaranteed at every show, the tour has a few outdoor venues in wide open spaces. Security can't patrol everything all of the time.

Mom doesn't reply, so I speak again. "You said you were going to set up a time for Sawyer and me to Zoom," I remind her. "Did you ever text him back?"

"I haven't. I'll do it now."

Mom retrieves her phone from the kitchen table and taps at the screen. A chime sounds about a minute after she sends the message.

"Sawyer wants to know if tomorrow around noon his time is good? He says he's rehearsing right now."

"Perfect," I say. "Tell him I'm thinking about him."

Mom types out a reply. "Done," she confirms. "Is there anything else you'd like me to tell him?"

"No, but there's something else I'd like to ask you to do."

"What's that?" she asks.

"I appreciate you looking out for me, but can you promise you won't hold off on telling me something like this again? No matter what you find out, and no matter what time of day it is or what I have going on, I want to know."

I expect mild resistance and "what if" scenarios she can't promise this for. She puts her phone down on the table. "Okay."

I blink a couple of times. I was prepared to fight with her about it and am relieved I won't have to. "Thank you."

Mom returns to rummaging through the cupboards and pulling out cans. I use the opportunity to retreat to my bedroom, and Alfie follows behind me.

I scoop Alfie up from the floor once I reach the safety of my room. After closing the door behind us, I put him on the bed and curl up beside him. I was tired when Hunter walked me home, but something about the spike and drop in adrenaline I experienced, followed by the conversation I had with Mom, has me wound up now and not wanting to nap.

I'm also afraid of what might happen if I close my eyes. If I sleep, there's a chance of visiting my nightmare again and seeing the same images of The Domino that slammed into my mind during my panic attack on the boat.

And so I lie on my back, eyes open, listening to muffled sounds from the kitchen and forcing myself to stay awake. Alfie has no qualms about dozing off. His soft snores give me comfort that my own slumber can't.

* * *

Mom doesn't mention our conversation during dinner that night. Neither of us wants to disturb our fragile truce, and I'm in no hurry to talk about what today's news could mean for me getting on a stage again. My record label will want to know my plans for future performances by the end of the summer, but I'm not ready to think about it yet.

Mom and I are back to what seems like normal by the time we turn in for the night, or as normal as we can be when there's a topic we're both skirting around. I give in and take one of my prescribed sleeping pills for the second time in three nights. This will either give me a few hours of undisturbed rest, or it will keep me trapped in my dreams.

I do dream that night, but something is different this time. Every nightmare I've had since the explosion has been alive with vivid detail, as if I'm back at The Domino and seeing everything happen in front of me again. Tonight it's like watching things from a distance, with a gauzy veil hanging between me and my memories.

I see myself on stage, singing into my microphone while my band plays behind me. People in the audience dance and sing along. But when the explosion happens, the vision in front of me disappears and I'm pulled into protective arms.

There are no screams this time and no smoke. I don't see blood or lifeless bodies on the floor. I'm no longer even at The Domino in my dream and am instead by the shore of the lake where I'm vacationing now. Hunter has his arms wrapped around me. His embrace pulled me away from what I was watching.

My dream self relaxes in his arms. I'm flooded with feelings of calm and peace, and soothed by his hand stroking my hair and upper back. Neither of us makes a move to pull away.

I tilt my head to look at him after a few minutes and meet his eyes. The same concern I saw when I panicked on the boat is in his gaze now, and so are other emotions. Warmth is definitely there, along with something else that pulls us closer until our faces are just inches apart. I wait for the brush of his lips against mine. I'm somehow aware this is only a dream, but it doesn't change how much I suddenly want to kiss him.

A whimper and bark intrudes upon my slumbering bliss. It takes a few seconds for me to wake up. Alfie paces in circles on the floor beside my bed, and another whimper alerts me of his need to go outside.

"Your timing needs work," I whisper to him. So does his choice of which human to wake up. I push the sheets and comforter off of me, disappointed about being awake and not having a chance to process what was about to happen in my dream. I need some reflection time, but it will have to wait.

I throw a hooded sweatshirt over my pajama top and find my flip-flops. Being in the middle of nowhere has its upside, since I don't have to worry about being photographed in my polka-dotted pajama pants with messy bedhead. Even so, I grab a bucket hat that's on top of my dresser before following Alfie out of the room.

I find his leash and clip it on him, then open the door. A white envelope on the doormat outside catches my eye. It's secured by a decent-sized rock. I stoop down to remove the rock and pick up the envelope, which has the word "Cali" scrawled on it in blue ink. It must be from Hunter.

I wonder how long it's been here. Mom took Alfie outside around ten o'clock last night and didn't mention it, so he must have brought it here earlier this morning and left it for me to find. I'm curious what's inside, but I can't open it now since Alfie is tugging at his leash and has an urgent look on his face. I slip the envelope into the pocket of my hoodie and let Alfie lead me down the stairs.

The thought of Hunter being outside of my cottage while I was dreaming of almost kissing him sends heat to my cheeks, even though no one but me is aware of what happened in my subconscious mind. The possibility that I might have encountered him right after my dream, clad in my mismatched clothes, with bleary eyes and unkempt hair and still groggy from the sleeping pill, makes me self-conscious. I scan my surroundings to make sure he isn't nearby, in case he hasn't left to drive into the city yet.

I've been fearful of losing control when I sleep for weeks. Now I wish I could fall back into a deep slumber and have my imagination pick things up where they left off. I have some serious dream analysis to take care of once I bring Alfie inside.

First, though, I need to find out what's in this envelope.


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