Page 13 of Never Forget
"I'm very sorry, Ms. Donovan. Your brother passed away approximately two hours ago. He developed an infection that progressed rapidly. The doctors did everything they could."
I don't remember what I said after that. I don't remember if I said anything at all.
I remember the phone slipping from my hand. I remember the sound it made when it hit the floor. I remember Mark's face across the restaurant, confused at first, then alarmed, then moving toward me as my knees gave out.
I remember the champagne that was still fizzing in my glass at the table. The celebration I'd been in the middle of. The life I'd been living five minutes ago that no longer existed.
I broke down right there. In the back of a restaurant, hand on the wall, phone on the floor.
Mark caught me before I hit the ground.
The flight to Havensworth was two hours and twenty-three minutes. I counted every one of them.
Mark sat beside me, his hand covered mine on the armrest. He'd booked the tickets while I was still crying in the back of that restaurant. He'd packed a bag for me while I sat on his bed and stared at nothing. He'd handled everything, the way he always did, because that's who he was.
I should have been grateful. I was grateful. But I couldn't feel it through the numbness that had settled over me like a second skin.
The flight attendant asked if I wanted anything to eat. Mark answered for me. I watched his mouth move but couldn't hear what he said.
I left Havensworth when I was eighteen. Not for college, though that's what I told people. I left because staying was impossible.
Something happened my junior year of high school. I still couldn't talk about it. I'd spent the rest of high school as a ghost, counting down the days until I could disappear.
New York was my escape. My clean slate. The place where no one knew the girl I used to be. I'd worked my way through NYU on scholarships and overnight shifts, taking every assignment no one else wanted, writing my way into rooms that should have been closed to me. Somewhere along the way, I'd stopped being the girl who fled Havensworth and became someone else entirely.
The last time I flew home was for Sarah's funeral. A year ago. I'd promised myself I'd come back more often after that.
But then Christmas came and Mark had planned a trip for us. And then my project was wrapping up and I told Jack I'd visit as soon as it was done. Just a few more weeks. Just until the series wrapped.
There was always supposed to be more time.
Maybe there still was. Maybe this was some horrible mistake. A mix-up at the hospital. A clerical error. Maybe I'd land and my phone would ring and it would be Jack on the other end, annoyed that I'd flown all the way to Havensworth when he'd told me he was fine.
The plane began its descent. Havensworth spread out below me through the tiny window. Rivers and bridges and church steeples, the whole city laid out like a postcard.
Mark squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, but I couldn't feel my fingers.
The wheels touched down.
Mark had arranged a car service. Of course he had. By the time we landed, there was a driver waiting for us at arrivals, holding a sign with Mark's name.
I didn't ask how he'd managed it. I didn't have the energy to be impressed. I just followed him into the back seat and let him take my hand as the car pulled away from the airport.
Havensworth slid past the window. The same streets. The same oak trees draped in Spanish moss. The same low-country light that made everything look like a photograph.
We passed the diner where Jack used to take me for pancakes on Saturday mornings. The park where we used to sit on the swings and talk about nothing. The street corner where he'd picked me up from school every day for three years, never once complaining.
I pressed my forehead to the glass and watched it all blur past.
Maybe this was Jack's cruel idea of a joke. His twisted way of scaring me into coming home sooner. I'd walk in and he'd be standing there with his arms crossed, waiting to say "Got you."
I'd kill him. I'd actually kill him for putting me through this.
The car stopped. I looked up.
Havensworth General Hospital.
I was out of the car before the driver could open my door. I heard Mark behind me, his footsteps quick on the pavement, but I didn't slow down. I walked straight through the entrance, past the front desk, past the waiting area, my eyes scanning for?—
