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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CELINE

“Tate?” His voice is like a fever dream. It doesn’t feel real. As much as I hate to admit it, even to myself, some huge part of me felt like I’d never hear it again.

Maybe I’m hallucinating. Maybe I’m imagining all of this. Maybe I really have had some sort of breakdown. I’m not sure any of this is real.

“Tate? Is that you?”

I can only hear him breathing.

“Please. Please say something. Tell me something. Anything.”

There’s a long pause where I’m sure he’s going to hang up, but then I hear, “I miss you.” His voice is soft and slow, like he’s trying not to be heard, and it reminds me of talking on the phone long after curfew when I was a teenager, covers pulled over my head.

“It’s really you.” My voice cracks. “I can’t believe it. I miss you too. So much. Where are you? What is happening?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Sorry?”

Once again he doesn’t say anything, leaving me in silence as I listen to the sound of his breathing.

“I know about the money.”

Again, there’s nothing.

“The boys miss you, Tate. Please just…if not for me, will you come back for them? At least to say goodbye?” I hate that I’m crying right now. Hate that I’m begging. “I don’t understand. I thought things were okay, and I don’t know why you left or what I did wrong, but I miss you. I really miss you, and I want you here. I want you to hold me and tell me it’s going to be okay and that this is all a misunderstanding. The boys miss you so much, Tate. They miss their daddy.” I sink to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself. “Please say something.”

“I can’t.”

“Where are you?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?”

Nothing.

I rock back and forth, scrubbing my hand over my arm. “The police are looking for you. What am I supposed to tell them?”

“You can’t tell them anything.”

“Why?” I demand, my voice indignant.

“Because I said.”

“Tate.”

“I have to go.”

“I know about the professor. In college.” I brace myself for the line to click, for the call to end, and when it doesn’t, I go on. “Aubrey Vance. I know all of your friends are dying, and…I think you know why it’s happening.”

I wait for him to deny it, but he doesn’t.

“Tate, please. Why did you take the money? What is happening?”

“I fucked up, okay?” His voice cracks. “I ruined everything.”

My chest splits open. He’s talking. He’s finally talking. “What do you mean? What did you do? Whatever it is, we can get through this. I promise you, we just?—”

“No. I have to go.”

Ice-cold panic seizes me. “No. What? Why? Please don’t hang up. Please don’t leave me like this.”

“I’ll call back when I can, okay?”

“No. No, that’s not good enough. Tell me something. Just give me something. You can trust me.”

“Don’t trust anyone,” he blurts out. “Don’t tell anyone I called. Don’t tell anyone what you know, especially not about…about that.”

“About the professor?”

“Don’t say it again, Celine. I mean it.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me, okay? I’ll explain this all when I can. I know you think you know things now, know who I was, but I’m not that person anymore. I’ve changed. You changed me.” His voice grows softer. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

With that, the line goes dead, and I’m left alone in the silence.