Filthy Foreign Exchange(58)

Now that I’m alone in the dark room, I grab my phone. Thank you, Mom. The screen reads that it’s just before midnight—which means Kingston hasn’t yet broken curfew, at least.

I call him first. I have so many questions for him: Where was he all day? Why didn’t he answer my dad? Does he know I’m here? And what the hell does he know about the destruction of my family’s pavilion?

On the third ring, the phone is answered. I perk up, anxious to hear him.

But it’s not his voice that speaks.

“Hello?”

I’d know that voice anywhere. It’s Savannah’s. What the f*ck?

I hang up. Nausea, anger, betrayal—and did I mention anger?—all ricochet around my head painfully. Why is he with her? Was she part of the crowd that trashed the pavilion? Was he gone when my dad arrived because they snuck off to have—

Ugh. I can’t do this—cope with all this alone, lying broken and clueless in a dark hospital room.

I call my brother immediately. And I go ahead and swallow the pain pill, too, even though it won’t dull the ache that hurts most.

Sebastian answers, sounding groggy at first.

“‘lo?” Suddenly his voice cracks and he sounds more alert, riddled with worry. “Echo, what’s wrong?”

“Seb,” I sob past the gravel in my throat. I don’t care if it hurts—I have to talk to someone. This day, from start to finish, has been a real-life nightmare. “It’s all so bad. Everything’s ruined.”

“What’s ruined? Echo, what’s wrong with your voice? What the hell is going on?”

I’m crying, whispering so I don’t get caught with my cell phone, and trying to explain with a modicum of rationality. I tell him about my fall, and how I’m in the hospital. When he finishes freaking out, I move on to the pavilion-being-trashed story. And when he’s done flipping shit about that too, I tell him about Savannah answering Kingston’s phone.

“Well, that explains why he wasn’t at the pavilion.” He laughs faintly. “Kingston might really not have had any idea about that going on—sounds like he was busy elsewhere. Which is fine…better, actually. I’d kick his ass if he watched people trash our property.”

Huh? The medicine must be kicking in, because I couldn’t possibly have heard him right.

“Are you seriously saying you’re okay with your girlfriend fooling around with someone else?” I’m beginning to wonder if I’m still unconscious and just in a weird, twisted dream.

“Echo, Savannah and I aren’t together. We took a break when I left. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew you’d worry, and Sav’s your best friend. I didn’t want weirdness between you two…I wanted you to have someone.”

“Someone who killed your baby and didn’t even tell you till after?”

I bite down on my bottom lip, and taste the result: blood. Damn it. Why did I say that?

His grim response is almost inaudible. “She told you?”

“No, I overheard her and Mom talking, then pressed her—and Clay—about it.”

“Clay? Why’d you ask him anything?”

“Because Mom seems to think he drove her, and paid for it. Which he didn’t confirm nor deny.”

He releases a snarl of disbelief. “He what?”

“I, uh…don’t know for sure. That’s just what I heard Mom say.” I wipe at my tears, closing my shameful eyes. “Sebastian, I’m so sorry, for all of it—for saying anything. I disowned them both, though, and may have thrown the chalk box at Savannah’s head. I just…why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighs in my ear. “Do I really need to answer that again? When you found out, you lobbed a heavy metal object at Savannah’s head that could’ve killed her, then got so upset you sleepwalked down the f*cking stairs and broke your arm. Why do you think I didn’t tell you?”

“Well, I’m so sorry that I love you and don’t like it when people go around hurting you!”

“I love you, too. Calm down for me, please,” he begs. “Shit, Echo, I need to go. I have to process a few things. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, drugs are kicking in. I’ll be out in few minutes.”

He laughs lightly. “I’ll call you tomorrow—make that later today. Okay?”

“K,” I murmur, feeling my eyes closing.

“Take care of yourself, Echo. I’ll be okay, I promise. Love you.”

~~~~~

I’m just dozing off when I make out a faint sound coming from under the covers.

I swat at the annoyance, hoping that smashes whatever it is before registering that it’s my phone ringing, just as it stops.

I’m digging under the covers for it as it pings with a new text.

Kingston: Please tell me you’re all right. They won’t let me in to see you.

Unable to lift my head completely, I fumble through a reply with heavy eyes and fingers.

Me: Where are you?

Kingston: Outside the hospital.

Me: Curfew?

That’s what I type, despite the flurry of questions I should be asking. But in this moment, I just want to be close to him—to block out the entire world, and all this bullshit. To feel his arms hold me as I fall asleep to the sound of his soothing voice.