He exhales slowly, like he’s bracing for impact. “I have some hard truths.”
I push myself up on my elbows, the sheet slipping down my shoulder. My skin prickles. “Hard truths about what?” My voice comes out smaller than I mean.
Ozzy sits up too, leaning back against the headboard. He reaches for my hand immediately, grounding me before he even starts. His fingers are warm and solid. “I talked to Dean,” he says.
I swallow. “Okay.”
Ozzy’s thumb strokes my knuckles once. “They looked into Carl.”
My throat tightens at the name. Carl is a word that tastes like cigarettes and cheap cologne and eyes that linger too long.
Ozzy watches my face. “And your mom.”
My breath catches. A tiny, stupid part of me—the part that’s still twelve years old and waiting for her to choose me—leans forward. Like maybe this will be good news. Like maybe she’s frantic and searching and crying and saying my name.
Ozzy’s voice turns softer. “They found them.”
My pulse lifts, hopeful and terrified. “Where?”
Ozzy’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t look away. “In the tropics,” he says. “On vacation.” The words don’t compute at first.
Vacation.
Tropics.
My mother.
Carl.
I blink hard. “What?”
Ozzy holds my gaze. “Luxury resort. Private bungalow. The kind of place that costs… a lot.”
My mind scrambles to catch up. My mother never has money. My mother complains about money like it’s a weather pattern. My mother asks me for twenty dollars like it’s oxygen. My mother going on vacation is so absurd it almost sounds funny— except Ozzy isn’t smiling.
My throat constricts. “No.”
Ozzy’s grip tightens on my hand. “Salem?—”
“No,” I say again, sharper. “That doesn’t make sense. She can’t afford?—”
“She’s affording it,” Ozzy says quietly. “And Carl’s with her.”
My chest goes hollow. I feel empty. Like the part of me that still hoped she might miss me just got scooped out with a spoon. I stare at Ozzy, waiting for him to tell me this is a mistake. Waiting for him to say,Sorry, wrong person. False lead. We got it wrong.
He doesn’t.
My lips part, but nothing comes out. My body feels oddly heavy, like gravity just doubled. “How…?” I whisper finally. “How is she there when… when I—” I can’t finish. Because the sentence is too humiliating. How is she drinking cocktails on a beach while I was being sold like I’m nothing?
Ozzy shifts closer. His free hand slides up my arm. “We don’t know how yet.”
I laugh once, sharp and ugly. “We do know how.”
Ozzy’s eyes harden. “Not fully.”
I shake my head, staring down at our tangled hands like they belong to someone else. “She didn’t even care I was gone.”
Ozzy’s voice goes low. “That’s not true.”