Page 39 of No Hope of Rescue

Again, she shakes her head. “No. Just get it. Please,” she says with such pain in her voice, I nearly do a double take. I sigh. Kids are so connected to their phone. Maybe she really believes she still has it.

While I pull out the pink fleece, she bites her lip and looks down at her feet under the thin hospital blankets. I unzip and reach into one pocket and find a handful of rocks, a climbing clip, and some wet peanuts crushed in their own shells. The other pocket holds nothing.

“The inside zipper,” she explains, her voice small. I pat the front, along the collar, and sure enough there’s something small and substantive.

It’s a small silver Tracfone.

She looks like she might throw up. “Just give it to me.” She opens it, checks for messages, and then closes it and hands it out to me.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s a phone, Codie.”

She nods.

“What’s it for? Who gave it to you?”

All I get is the same answer. After a second or two, she adds, “It needs to be a secret.”

I hate secrets. I had to keep one a long time about my mom. And it hurt people, including me. “I need to know who gave this to you.”

There’s a long silence. “A guy.”

“A boy? Someone from school?” Lately, she’s been crushing on a rash of young men—from school, the store, a mechanic.

“Please trust me,” she says, her voice a whisper.

Before I can ask another question, the door opens, and everyone pours into Codie’s room. I quickly slip the phone into my back pocket. The one nurse directs traffic, pointing people into chairs and trying to make the space less chaotic. I step away from the bed and offer Kelly my chair. Mother and daughter hug. In another minute, Brock enters as well, and the relief is offset by the thrumming in my chest.

I flash to the warmth of his lips, the weight of his arm around me, how close he’d cinched me to him. The hard muscle of his arms and thighs. His smell.

Swallowing, I stay put on the other side of the room. He remains standing, leaning against the wall.

Jace scoots next to his mom and takes Codie’s hand. She’s about to turn eighteen in November. There is a two-year spread between them.

Kelly was busy with five kids under ten. I’m not even sure I want children.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jace says, holding her hand. He rubs her palm with his thumb.

“When can I leave?” She doesn’t sound pleased or happy. She just sounds distraught.

I get it. She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want the attention.

But her brothers do what brothers do best. Without missing a beat, Jace answers with a kind of directness the Westons are known for: “The doc says you can go home tomorrow after you’ve pooped.”

Just then, there’s a tap on the door and Ross pokes his head in—a nice touch letting the family be together first.

I can’t help but notice how her face flushes immediately, and she pulls her hand away from Jace’s.

“Can I get anyone anything?” Ross asks.

There’s a negative murmur. I don’t think anyone can eat. My stomach is full of bad coffee and acid. Then he sees Codie.

“Hey.” He closes the door behind him and smiles at her. His presence somehow makes Codie shrink into the bed. “Hey, um, I’m Ross Colton.” He extends his hand but drops it after a moment.

She looks at Ross, her eyes wide.