No in Between (Inside Out #4)(64)

My cell phone rings and I don’t even look at the caller ID. “Chris?”

“No, sorry. It’s Crystal.”

“Oh hi, Crystal. Is everything all right?”

“As okay as it can be, with the press suffocating us. I’m sure it’s a hundred times worse there.”

“I’ve been hiding from it. If you’re dealing with the press, I’m sure you’ve heard my name.”

“Yes, but I knew about Ava attacking you. Mark called me last night and told me the whole story. He wanted me to be prepared. But more than anything, he was worried about how his mom was going to deal with all of this, and he wanted to be here. Yet now he’s saying he’s not coming this weekend.”

“He told me a few hours ago that he was flying out tonight.”

“So you don’t know why he would make this decision?”

“No. I had no idea he’d changed his mind.”

“Sara,” she says, worry thickening her voice, “he told me he needs me to just handle it.”

“That doesn’t sound like Mark.”

“No, it doesn’t. That man doesn’t say ‘need’ to anyone, and he sure doesn’t say ‘handle it’ where Riptide and his mother are concerned. He didn’t sound good, and I’m not there to figure out why. Is there news on Rebecca?”

“I’m not certain. Chris is at the police station, and Mark just arrived back here at the gallery.”

“So he’s there with you?”

“He’s in the same building but I wouldn’t say he’s with me. He didn’t even speak to me when he came in.”

“Can you try to figure out what’s going on, and call me?”

“Yes. I will.”

“I know you’re going through hell, but it’s hard to be here with my hands tied. I have this family’s livelihood in my hands, and I’m terrified of letting them all down.”

“You won’t,” I assure her. She clearly cares for Mark, and I hope she doesn’t end up hurt. “Let me go talk to Mark. If I don’t call you right back, it’s because Chris and I are trying to get out of town to escape the press.”

“I understand. If you get the chance, please tell Mark his father knows what’s going on, but his mother doesn’t and we aren’t going to let her. We have a plan. I left him a voice mail to reassure him, but I have no idea if he’ll listen to it anytime soon.”

My phone beeps. “I will. That might be Chris calling, so I need to take this call.”

“Okay, ’bye, Sara.”

I quickly click at the sight of Chris’s number, only to have the line go dead. “No. No.” I dial him back and the call goes right to voice mail. My phone immediately rings again and it’s Jacob.

“Did you talk to Chris?” I ask. “He just tried to call.”

“Yes. He said to tell you he’s going to your apartment to get your bags, and then he’ll be here to pick you up. He’s with David and he’ll update you when he gets here.”

“Is everything all right?”

“You’re approved to leave town. That’s a good sign.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

I have limited time to talk to Mark, so I push to my feet and head to his office. With a deep breath, I prepare myself and knock. And knock again. Frowning, I’m surprised to hear music coming from inside. That’s unlike the Mark I know. Whatever the case, I’m not sure he can hear me knock. So holding my breath, I open the door to the lion’s den.

“Say Something”

Say something, I’m giving up on you

I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you

Anywhere I would’ve followed you

Say something, I’m giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride

You’re the one that I love

And I’m saying goodbye

A Great Big World





Twenty



Cracking Mark’s office door, the searing lyrics I’d been playing on my phone two nights before when Mark abruptly left my office reaches my ears, warning me all is not well. In fact, I’m fairly certain something is very, very wrong. Easing inside, I see his empty desk.

Mark is sitting on the black leather couch to my right. His jacket is gone, his tie is loose, and he’s holding a glass of amber liquid, and still he manages to give me a superior stare. “Limits, Ms. McMillan,” he berates me. “Knock on the damn door.”

“I did knock. You didn’t hear.”

“That doesn’t constitute an invitation. I didn’t want to hear.” He refills his glass and I swear there is a slight tremble to his hand.

A swell of emotion fills my chest and I cross the room, stopping in front of the coffee table where his laptop, the source of the music, sits.

He downs another gulp and fixes me in a bloodshot stare that’s void of emotion. He says nothing and I think he might be waiting for me to say something, like the song says, but I could be wrong. Maybe he wants me to say nothing, because it’s not me he truly needs to speak to. It’s Rebecca.

“How are you?” I blurt out when I can take it no more.

“I’m f*cking wonderful.” He refills his glass. “I had good news so it’s a good day.”