Page 19 of Infinity Chronicles 1
A warm tingle buzzes across my cheek. I sigh and lean into the felling. My head falls and I'm jolted awake right when my shoulder collides with something hard and warm.
It barely takes a second before I realize where I am and who I'm with. Mortification is swift as it burns my cheeks and gives way to shame. Good god, what was I thinking? Was I drooling, how long wasIasleep?
“Laura,” Dante’s deep voice croons, while I rub both hands over my face to hide the redness I know must be there.
“I'm so sorry,” I mutter through my hands.
“Kill a guy’s ego, would you?” I peek through my fingers at Oliver. “All three of us combined aren't entertaining enough to keep one beautiful girl awake with our thrilling conversation.” He smiles at me through his impressively long eyelashes I'm secretly cursing him for. He's the jokester of the group, keeps everything lighthearted. I blush harder from the compliment.
“Didn't sleep well last night?” Milo asks with a small frown on his face.
“No, not really,” I answer finally, sitting up. When the silence stretches, I give a shaky excuse about needing to get home.
Dante stands slowly and extends his hand down to tug me from the seat. The moment my hand is in his, I sensethat same pooling warmth and a brush of something familiar against my senses.
Caught off guard I start to ask, “Do you feel that?” But before he can answer, the door opens with a jingle and we're interrupted. My hand is still in Dante’s when Delaney walks up to the table. Her eyes are trained on the exact spot our skin is connected, and where the tingle is coming from.I jerk my hand free and rub my palm over the rough denim covering my thigh.
“Cozy, cozy, cozy,” she hisses, eyes now narrowed in my direction.
One of the guys huffs or snorts as a reply.
“Thought you had plans with the guys today Dante?” Delaney accuses in a whiny tone.
“I did, do,” growls Dante past a clenched jaw. Great, now I've gotten him in trouble.
Without me even noticing, I've somehow been shuffled to the back of the group.
“How did you guys end up here with her?” Her tone makes it clear what she thinks of me.
“Delaney,” Dante barks, “I’ve told you I can't do weekends, so if you need to find someone else for the position then do it, but I need you to respect that or I'll walk!”
From behind Oliver’s back, I see her lips soften and turn into a pout.
“I'm sorry Dante,” she coos softly. “You know how I get. I just want the best and that's you.” Her fingers crawl up his arm as she takes a step closer. I turn away before I witness anymore.
Desperation leaks from her in spades. I almost feel sorry for her, that she'd be willing to let him treat her this way.If I was in her shoes, would I do the same? No, I think with a small amountof conviction. I want to be wanted by someone. I never want to be the person who someone settles for.
Slowly, I take a few steps back. No one notices when I pass through the kitchen doors and escape out the service entrance.
The further I get from the diner, the more anxious I get. Between wanting to disappear from the Dante and Delaney situation and worrying about what I'll find when I get home, I'm at a near jog.
Unlocking the door I already know the truth.She’s not here. She left me. With no explanation. Nothing.
Did I become akin to one of the places she needed to run from? More importantly, where did she go, and how will she survive?
I drop down onto the old sofa, collapsing on myself.
The heavy weight of tears stings my eyes, but the dampness stays pooled there. Thoughts of the past few weeks assault me—was there something wrong that I didn't know, and was she hiding something from me? Other than her sleeping way more than usual, I can't think of anything that seemed off… wait, there was the night I woke to hear her talking, possibly to someone. Who could it have been? I just figured she was talking to herself, maybe a new symptom of her psychosis. But perhaps not, maybe it was somebody, and that's who she's with. I never could make out anything she said, just the sound of harsh whispers and an undeniable urgency. Then an even worse thought comes—what if she didn't choose to leave, what if someone made her, or even took her?
The rumble of acar in the distance frightens me in a way I'm not familiar with. I'm alone now, so alone. Without the constant presence of my mom and the persistent need to take care of her, the sick game of 'what if' continues in my head.
I jump up and check the door to the RV. The only place I've ever really known as home, and the place that always felt somewhat safe, now feels like a tin can. The thin walls and flimsy door offer little to no protection if someone wanted in. I shake my head in denial and step back from the locked door. I won't do this. I'm not going to let this fear incapacitated me. I need to find out what happened to my mom.
* * *
I triedto sleep in the bed, but it was no use. Everything seemsunfamiliar and I couldn't bring myself to be that far away from the door. Our things surround me as I wiggle into the small sofa. I take comfort she hasn't disappeared completely. I drape her thin teal blanket over me as I close my eyes and try to pretend she's in the kitchen, scrubbing the tiny counter for the seventh time today. I feel strange and out of sorts. I've never been this needy girl. I've always been the one taking care of her, now I actually feel like the seventeen-year-old girl I am.
I spend a long time telling myself to settle down, stop thinking. My body and brain need the rest.
