The heavy door to Carson’s office clicks shut behind me, and the sound echoes through the empty corridor like a prison cell closing.
I stand motionless for three heartbeats, letting oxygen flood back into lungs that haven’t taken a full breath in over an hour.
I pull my phone from my pocket.
Emily
7:03 PM
Bread’s out of the oven. Stew’s simmering. Come hungry.
7:32 PM
Everything’s ready whenever you are. No rush.
7:50 PM
Are you still at work? Text when you’re on your way.
8:15 PM
Getting worried. Are you okay?
8:31 PM
Called and left voicemail. Please let me know you’re all right.
8:43 PM
Jared says I should eat without you. I’ll keep a plate warm.
The final message arrived five minutes ago.
Emily
9:05 PM
I guess you’re not coming. Let me know you’re safe when you can.
The progression from hope to concern to resignation cuts through me, all in the span of two hours. My thumb hovers over the screen with the urge to call her, but my throat closes at the thought of explaining where I’ve been, what kept me.
The truth would sound paranoid. A lie would be another betrayal.
I tap out a message instead, deleting and rewriting three times before settling on a neutral response.
Leif
I’m so sorry. Got held up with urgent school business. Leaving now.
The words stare back at me, insufficient for once again leaving them hanging. The words could have been written by anyone, about anything. They reveal nothing of the way Carson’s touch keeps finding me, his breath intimate on my neck and in my ear.
I send it, anyway, watching the blue bubble whoosh away, carrying my inadequate explanation into the ether.
When the response comes, my heart sinks.
Emily
Drive home safe.