“We’ve got this,” Rachel whispers.
“We’ve so got this,” I tell her.
Clayton yawns, and it makes us both laugh.
Since when did yawns become so incredible?
I touch his fingers.
We love you so much, Clayton.
chapter twenty-seven
TATE
I drop down into the chair beside Cap, still dressed from head to toe in my scrubs. As soon as I got home from work, I studied for two hours straight. It’s already after ten, and I haven’t even had supper yet, which is why I’m sitting next to Cap right now, because he’s getting to know my habits and had a pizza ordered for the two of us.
I hand him a slice and grab my own, then shut the lid and set it on the floor in front of me. I shove a huge bite into my mouth, but Cap is staring down at the slice in his hand.
“It’s really sad when pizza can make it to you faster than the police,” he says. “I just ordered this ten minutes ago.” He takes a bite and closes his eyes like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
We both finish our slices, and I reach for another one. He shakes his head when I offer him a second slice, so I put it back in the box.
“So?” he says. “Any progress between the boy and his friend?”
It makes me laugh that he constantly refers to Miles as the boy. I nod and respond with a mouthful. “Kind of,” I say. “They had a successful game night, but I think it was only successful because Miles pretended I wasn’t there the whole time. I know he’s trying to respect Corbin, but it kind of makes me feel like shit in the process, you know?”
Cap nods like he understands. I’m not sure that he does, but I like that he always listens so attentively anyway. “Of course, he texted me the entire time he was in the living room sitting next to Corbin, so I guess I have that. But then there are weeks like this week when he’s not even in the same state, and it’s like I don’t even exist to him. No texts. No phone calls. I’m pretty sure he only thinks about me when I’m within ten feet of him.”
Cap shakes his head. “I doubt that. I bet that boy thinks about you a lot more than he lets on.”
I’d like to believe those words to be true, but I’m not so sure they are.
“But if he doesn’t,” Cap says, “you can’t be mad at him for it. Wasn’t part of the agreement, now, was it?”
I roll my eyes. I hate that he always brings me back to the fact that Miles isn’t the one breaking rules or agreements. I’m the one with the problems in our arrangement, and that’s no one’s fault but my own.
“How did I get myself into this mess?” I ask, not even needing an answer. I know how I got myself into this mess. I also know how to get out of it . . . I just don’t want to.
“You ever heard that expression, ‘When life gives you lemons . . .’？”
“Make lemonade,” I say, finishing his quote.
Cap looks at me and shakes his head. “That’s not how it goes,” he says. “When life gives you lemons, make sure you know whose eyes you need to squeeze them in.”
I laugh, grab another slice of pizza, and wonder how in the hell I ended up with an eighty-year-old man as my best friend.
???
Corbin’s home phone never rings. Especially after midnight. I throw the covers off and grab a T-shirt, then pull it over my head. I don’t know why I bother getting dressed. Corbin’s gone, and Miles isn’t due back until tomorrow.
I make it to the kitchen on the fifth ring, right as the answering machine picks up. I cancel the message, then put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Tate!” my mother says. “Oh, my God, Tate.”
Her voice is panicked, which immediately causes me to panic. “What is it?”
“A plane. A plane crashed about half an hour ago, and I can’t get through to the airline. Have you talked to your brother?”
My knees meet the floor. “Are you sure it was his airline?” I ask her. My voice sounds so terrified I don’t even recognize it. It sounds as terrified as hers did the last time this happened.
I was only six, but I remember every single detail as if it happened yesterday, down to the moon-and-star pajamas I was wearing. My father was on a domestic flight, and we had turned on the news right after dinner and saw that one of the planes had gone down due to engine failure. Everyone on board was killed. I remember watching my mother on the phone with the airline, hysterical, trying to find out information on who the pilot was. We found out it wasn’t him within the hour, but that hour was one of the scariest of our lives.
Until now.
I rush to my room and grab my cell phone off my nightstand and immediately dial his number. “Have you tried calling him?” I ask my mother as I make my way back to the living room. I try to make it to the couch, but for some reason, the floor seems more comforting. I kneel down again, almost as if I’m in prayer mode.
I guess I am.
“Yes, I’ve been calling his phone nonstop. It’s just going to voice mail.”
It’s a stupid question. Of course, she’s tried calling him. I try again anyway, but his phone goes directly to voice mail.
I try to reassure her, but I know it’s pointless. Until we hear his voice, reassurance won’t help. “I’ll call the airline,” I tell her. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”
She doesn’t even say good-bye.
I use the home phone to call the airline and my cell phone to call Miles. It’s the first time I’ve ever dialed his number.
I pray that he answers, because as much as I’m scared to death for Corbin, it’s also running through my head that Miles works for the same airline.
My stomach is sick.
“Hello?” Miles says on the second ring. His voice sounds hesitant, like he’s unsure why I’m calling.
“Miles!” I say, both frantic and relieved. “Is he okay? Is Corbin okay?”
There’s a pause.
Why is there a pause?
“What do you mean?”
“A plane,” I say immediately. “My mom called. There was a plane crash. He’s not answering his phone.”
“Where are you?” he says quickly.
“The apartment.”
“Let me in.”
I walk to the door and unlock it. He pushes the door open and still has the phone to his ear. When he sees me, he pulls the phone away, immediately rushes to the couch, grabs the remote, and turns on the television.
He flips through the channels until he finds the TV news report. He dials numbers on his cell phone, then turns and rushes toward me. He takes my hand in his. “Come here,” he says, pulling me to him. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
I nod against his chest, but his reassurance is pointless.
“Gary?” he says when someone answers on the other end. “It’s Miles. Yeah. Yeah, I heard,” he says. “Who was the crew?”
There’s a long pause. I’m terrified to look at him. Terrified.
“Thank you.” He hangs up the phone. “He’s okay, Tate,” he says immediately. “Corbin’s fine. Ian, too.”
I break down into tears of relief.
Miles walks me to the couch and sits down, then pulls me to him. He takes my cell phone out of my hands and presses several buttons before putting the phone to his ear.