The Speed of Light: A Novel(57)

My arms tremble as I press down on her wound again. She’ll be okay. We’ll stay here in the dark until help arrives. Police response time is minutes—Officer Jackson might even be on campus right now.

Or she might be dead.

Before the thought fully forms, a loud bang shatters the silence. My eyes whip frantically to Hayley, who stares back at me wide eyed, crouched in the corner of the closet.

But it isn’t a gunshot—it’s the office door, slamming against the bookshelf.

Another bang rings out, then another, like a relentless beating drum, but suddenly it stops. A deathly silence hums around us, seconds ticking by excruciatingly slowly, and then I hear a sound even more terrifying.

The creak of footsteps inside the office.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

July 4, five months before

Fixer. The word repeats itself inside my head, a relentless beating drum, but I don’t have long to wallow before Arielle and Ella return, the former muttering obscenities under her breath. Gratitude fills me—at least we can sit in our misery together. Surely the low point of the day is over. Once we’re out of here, I can try to process Connor’s mom’s statement and how it made me feel—for now, I need to get through the rest of this visit.

Thankfully, I get to hide here in this blessedly cool room with two members of Connor’s family I truly like.

I’m getting hungry, but I’ll be damned if I’ll risk talking to anyone else to go out to the buffet table and make a plate. I glance at my phone—almost eight o’clock. We’d planned to be on the road by nine. I can hold out for another hour; then maybe we can stop for food on the way home.

Connor bounds into the room then and sets a plate on my lap triumphantly. I catch a whiff of nacho-cheesy goodness before I even look down. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted a burger or a brat, so I thought I would bring you Doritos for an appetizer.” He grins at all three of us, and when Ella jumps up, he scoops her up. “Come on, guys, grab a plate. They’re about to start.”

“About to start what?” Arielle’s eyes narrow.

“The slideshow.” Connor’s grin broadens, and it strikes me that his enthusiasm is fake, the Doritos a delicious bribe to stay later than our agreed-upon departure time.

“Slideshow?” I ask softly.

“God dammit.” Arielle doesn’t mutter, and Connor’s jaw tenses.

“Mommy!” Ella claps a hand to her mouth.

Arielle forces a smile. “Sorry, baby. I’ll put a quarter in the swear jar when we get home.”

Connor turns to me, his eyes questioning. “You feeling up to it?”

His mom’s words—my little fixer—slice through me, and I nod, pushing myself to my feet. I shove some Doritos into my mouth and follow them down the fluffy carpeted stairs into the basement great room, unsure exactly what it is we’re walking into.



Apparently it’s an annual family tradition to stuff their sweaty, tipsy bodies downstairs to watch a slideshow of their family adventures throughout the years. I’m hanging out in the back, leaning against the wall, giggling as I watch Connor with his awkward preteen mullet flexing for pictures with his cousins, or Connor the chubby little toddler wearing his He-Man Halloween costume.

But as the pictures press on—well past nine o’clock—through the relentless procession of time, Arielle’s face grows paler. Connor is growing closer to adulthood—and so is his brother. Sure enough, photos begin to pop up of Arielle and Cam—at prom, graduation, and finally, their wedding day.

Ella is loving it, sitting on her grandma’s lap, eyes glued to the large flat-screen on the wall in front of her, but I catch Arielle swiping at her eyes as she sneaks silently up the stairs.

Then another couple fills the screen, and my heart leaps to my throat.

It’s Connor, a bit younger, with a strikingly beautiful redhead.

Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Diana.

I was wrong. I hadn’t yet reached the night’s low point—or maybe I had, but somehow we’ve now sunk beyond the low point and into the second level of hell.

And is it my imagination, or has an awkward hush fallen over the room—are eyes darting to me? It’s certainly quieter, voices not as boisterous now. Next to me, Connor visibly tenses, his eyes flitting apologetically to mine as the screen shows Connor and Diana dancing at Cam and Arielle’s wedding, Connor and Diana wearing matching sweaters at Christmastime, Connor and Diana cuddled together on a ski lift.

Finally, he rubs his forehead. “Mom.”

A few uncomfortable snickers burst out around the room, and Irene shrugs. “Sorry—we add on to the same old slideshow every year. We’ll be past these soon, Simone.”

I am horrified at the callout and the laughter that follows. I shrink into myself but still can’t stop watching as the photos continue. Connor and Diana running a marathon—a marathon? I glance at him, and he smiles sheepishly, shrugs. He has never mentioned this, and I am humiliated when I realize why—because I’m struggling to even run a 5K, and he didn’t want to embarrass me.

Of course not—he wants to help me. I’m the girlfriend he needs to help.

Next—as if the universe really wants to drive home the stark contrasts between us—is a rock-climbing selfie. Shit, she’s even one of those women who looks beautifully put together when she sweats.