Page 6 of Rescued By Midnight

I step sideways, out of his reach. “I’ll be on the couch.”

Clutching my new phone, which is apparently the only thing in this world that I own, I make my way back downstairs. Thankfully, Brayden doesn’t follow me. I expected whining and complaints, but maybe like me, he’s just too fucking tired.

I find a new blanket on the couch that smells like Jericha’s flowery perfume.

This is a nightmare. I stepped out of a nightmare with Abe and into a nightmare with Brayden.

There’s no physical chain holding me to this nightmare, but I depend on Brayden for everything. He controls the finances, his name is on everything. Is mine? I don’t even know.

I was young when I married him three years ago—only twenty-three. I trusted him with my entire life. I thought we were a team.

Lying on the couch, I push the blanket down so I don’t have to smell Jericha. A strange chirp gets my attention, and I realize it’s my phone. Quickly, I silence it and check the notification.

Unknown Number: Hey, Wonderland. We’re thinking of you. If you need anything, call.

I stare at the text for a long, unblinking moment. There are only two people on the planet who call me “Wonderland”—Landon Sprechter and Cody Wells. Old friends from before I married Brayden.

Brayden never liked them. He said we couldn’t invite them to the wedding. His feelings would be hurt if I texted them, and I felt so guilty, I stopped texting. It hadn’t helped that they never approved of him. It hadn’t helped that he found out I met them in grief counseling because their girlfriend—one girlfriend for two men—had passed away. He thought they were lecherous old men, despite them being the same age as him, about ten years older than me. He told me they were sinful and our church would never allow them to set foot on our campus, much less into the sanctuary temple itself.

In my quest to be the perfect wife, I’d let it go. I’d let them go.

But now, in the moment I feel most alone, most abandoned and forgotten, they remembered me. They’re reaching out, offering their help.

I stare at their text until the screen goes dark.

3

CODY - NOW

Ariel, of course, came through with Alice’s phone number. She’s the best hacker we know, and she could probably take over the world if she had a malicious bone in her body.

As soon as we got the phone number last night, Landon texted Alice. She didn’t respond. I don’t expect her to. Why would she? She’s home, returned to her “loving” husband. She cut us out of her life three years ago. I don’t see why anything would be different now.

The sun blazes in through my curtains, a harsh reminder of my sleepless night. This is going to be an unreasonably warm day for early May. I lie in bed, ears straining toward Landon’s room, hoping to hear a sound, any sound, from his phone.

You don’t fucking care, I tell myself. Because of course I don’t. I wouldn’t. I can’t.

When we met, we were thirty-two. She was twenty-one. Far, far too young. As our friendship grew, Landon said, more than once, that he wished she were older. He admired her, I could tell. Not in that lustful, kinky way that usually caused us to pursue women. It was a restrained longing. Strange thing is, I’m the one who talked to her first.

I might have been the one to fall for her first.

CODY - THEN

Two minutes late, a young woman stumbled into the church rec hall, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Her dark blond hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and it looked like she hadn’t washed it in several days. Her eyes were blue, but they looked dull. “Sorry, I can go?—”

“No, sit, please.” The counselor, Inderjit, gave her a welcoming nod. “We are only now starting.”

When it was the young woman’s turn to speak, she took a deep breath. “Hi, I’m Alice. I lost my parents last week. Car accident. Both of them just…gone.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Inderjit said as the rest of us made soft sounds of consolation.

I went up to her after the meeting ended. “Hey, Alice. I’m Cody. I just wanted to say, I lost my parents when I was a teenager. I know how it wrecks you. It’s good that you’re coming to counseling—I’ve found it very helpful.”

“Thanks, but I’m not sure I’ll come back.” She dunked a tea bag into her cup, over and over, fixating on that instead of meeting my eyes.

“Why not?” I asked. “I thought it went well. You fit in here.”

She gave a bitter, short laugh. “I’m a mess.”