Nauseous, I roll my window down, inhaling the fresh air.
Nope.
Bile stains my teeth, presses against them—I lean out the window and let it rip, spewing backward until my stomach is empty.
"Ah, Jesus, bro," Riley grumbles. "At least you did it out the window." When I pull my head back in, wiping my lips with the back of my wrist, he grips my shoulder. “What thefuckis Amy doing in your house?"
I shake my head. "She was just…there. I thought it was a dream at first. She split from her husband and came up here to find me. Drove by, according to her, and saw my door wide open and came in to check that I was okay." Another wave of vomiting hits, and I barely get it out the window in time. "Fuck, I'm never drinking with you assholes again. This shit was fun when we were nineteen or twenty, but it's not fucking fun anymore."
"Hear that," he mutters. "So…what? What happened?"
"She—" I shake my head. "Find Ember. I can't think about Amy right now."
“Okay, but we have no idea where she went."
"North, at a guess." I scrub my face again—vomiting helps a little. I feel less woozy and not as intoxicated. "Ember came home and saw Amy sitting on my bed, trying to—I stopped her. Before I knew Ember was there, I told her no. It didn't—it wasn't right. I didn't want her. But Ember saw and—"
"Made an assumption and bolted."
"Right." I check my phone—my last message to her is unread. "And then a few minutes later I got a text from her—the word ‘help’ spelled out in individual texts."
I show him and he glances at it. "That's weird."
"Something is wrong, Rye," I whisper. "She's hurt. We have to find her.”
"We'll find her, bro."
"She has to be alive," I breathe. "Shehasto. I fucking love her."
Riley's gaze cuts to me. "No shit?"
"Her thinking I was doing something with Amy, and then this fucking terror that she's gone, or hurt, or—or—" I shake my head, fighting hyperventilation. "It was Cassie's fault. Not mine. I was drunk. Amy watched the whole but didn't realize how fucking gone I was. She thought I was just hooking up with Cassie fucking Miller. She took off and never gave me a chance to explain. Blocked my number, told her parents not to let me in, refused to see me, refused to speak to me, refused to hear a single fucking goddamn syllable of explanation."
I smash my fist into Riley's dashboard, denting the airbag cover and probably breaking something in my hand.
Riley grabs my wrist. "Hey, whoa, fucking Jesus, bro, cut that shit out!"
"Cassie just…took what she wanted. I guarantee she knew how fucking wasted I was. I couldn’t sit up. I'm pretty sure I was lying in a puddle of my own goddamn vomit." I tip my head back, face covered with my palms, and groan. "She jerked me off till I was hard, climbed on, and fucked me. I was too hammered to say anything—yes, no, or otherwise."
Riley claps a hand on my arm, frowning at me. "You never said much about what actually happened. We all heard the rumors, you know? People talking about seeing you and Cassie fucking. But you never confirmed or denied anything, you just…"
"I was focused first on Amy, on trying to get her to hear me out, and when she wouldn't, I…" I shrug. "I tried to move on. But I always harbored this…guilt. I felt like I'd fucked up. Like I'd…" Words won't come. "Like I should have been able to stop her. To say no. Or not get so drunk I couldn't. I dunno. She just—Amy left without a single fucking word to me, and I…I took on the guilt. I've lived with that guilt for almost fifteen fucking years."
"Fee, brother," Riley grabs my hand. "What happened? What Cassie did? That's called rape, man."
I shake my head. "I don't know how to apply that word to myself."
"Start with telling yourself that it wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong." He squeezes my hand. "Try to—I dunno, man, I'm not a fuckin' therapist. Just…it'snotyour fault."
"She apologized," I mutter. "Amy. For leaving. For not hearing me out. She told me…she told me she thought about me every time she and her husband had sex."
Fee makes a face. "I dunno how I'd feel about that."
"Me either," I say.
We're well out of downtown Three Rivers by now, past the streetlamps and into the dark ribbon of highway running parallel to the lake. Mile after mile, my stomach tightens and my sense of impending doom ratchets to higher and more panicky levels. I can't breathe. My stomach is in knots.
"Ohhhh…fuck," Riley breathes.
