Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Lila

"Mommy," a faint voice calls from a distance. "Mom!"

I jolt awake to Jake's high-pitched demands and immediately fall back onto the pillow. Oh my God, where did this pounding in my head come from? I stir in bed as the warmth from the sunlight filters in through the curtains. Why do I feel as if a truck has hit me?

"Mom, we need to get ready, or we'll be late."

"I need a second, big guy." I open my eyes to Jake standing over me, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His bright eyes are full of energy, a stark contrast to the heaviness I feel.

"Why are you so tired, Mom?" The tinge of concern in his voice causes me to smile.

"I didn't sleep well last night." I try to muster a reassuring smile, but I'm unsure if I pulled it off. "Don't worry. We'll get you ready."

He looks at me with those big, innocent eyes, and I can't help but feel a pang of guilt. I should be more present for him, especially today. His excitement about the field trip has been building for weeks. It's his first big adventure without me, and I want it to be perfect.

"But we need to hurry."

"I know," I say through a moan. "Your field trip."

I sit up quickly. Too quickly. The room spins as a sharp pain pounds behind my forehead. I grab my head. I wasn't feeling the best last night but pushed it off to the questionable sour cream I spread on my burrito. It had a funny smell, but this seems like more.

I wait until the room stops spinning. Maybe Miranda can take him for me. She's been acting distant since the incident at the park, but even more so last night. I tried not to eavesdrop on the hushed phone call she took in the other room, but it was hard not to notice the tension in her voice. She left shortly after. I assumed Drake had gotten back into town.

I let out another groan that had nothing to do with my illness.

"You don't look good, Mom."

"I don't feel too well." I glance around the room, straining to hear any stirring. "Is Miranda home?"

"No."

My eyes narrow. "You sure?"

"Uh-huh. I checked."

Great. She must've stayed out all night.

"Hurry, Mom. It's late."

I grab my phone and cringe. It's after ten already, and she's not home? I hate that my mind goes directly to her being with Drake. And I hate how that makes me feel. They're together. I need to get used to it.

No matter how hard it is, seeing them hang on each other.

Ugh. I hate this so much.

Pushing thoughts of Drake aside, I plant my feet on the ground and push to stand. "Okay, let's get you something to eat."

"I already ate."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Don't worry. I made you something, too."

When I notice the pile of runny eggs on the plate with burnt bacon, the sulfur smell hits me. My stomach roils.

Grabbing my mouth, I dart to the bathroom momentarily before spilling everything from last night. My body shakes.

As I wipe my mouth and try to catch my breath, I can't shake the nagging thoughts that I'm missing something.

"Mom, are you okay?" Jake's voice trembles from the doorway, and I force a smile onto my pale face.

"I'm okay, sweetheart," I respond weakly, standing up and washing my hands. "I think it was just something I ate."

"But you didn't eat anything..." He trails off, eyes wide with worry. A lump forms in my throat.

"I meant last night," I correct him, hiding the shaking in my hands as I dry them off. "Let's call Miranda and see if she can take you on your big field trip instead."

"But she's not here," he insists again, but I ignore his words. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

No answer.

I dial again, and this time, her voicemail picks up.

"Hey, I'm not sure you're with a client, but can you call me back? I need your help."

Dialing his friend's dad next, I wait for him to pick up, but I'm greeted with his voicemail instead. God, does anyone have their phones near them today?

Defeated, I slump against the bathroom wall and try to figure out what to do. I can't disappoint Jake; he's too excited about going. I look at what I'm wearing—a ratty cotton T-shirt and sleeper shorts. Good enough to drive him to the drop-off spot.

"Okay, big guy. Let's get you going."

I stumble out to the living room in search of the keys. I can do this. I grab my purse and practically dump everything out, looking for them.

Nothing.

Where the heck are they?

A wave of dizziness washes over me. I clutch the back of the couch, trying to steady myself as my knees threaten to buckle.

"Mom, you're really sick." Jake's brow furrows, his worry palpable.

"No," I mutter, stubbornly straightening at his concerned tone. "I'm fine … I just need a moment." Where are those damn keys?

I search in the couch cushions and on every counter surface in the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Still nothing.

"I can't find them anywhere." Jake's voice wavers as tears spring to his eyes.

My heart breaks at feeling so helpless.

"I'll try Miranda again. Can you get me the phone?"

He nods and races over to the coffee table. Once he hands it to me, I quickly redial her number. My entire body deflates when it goes straight to her messages.

A wave of nausea hits me again, but this time, I keep it down. I glance into Jake's concerned eyes and know only one thing left to do.

I suck in the weakest, shakiest breath and dial the last person I ever thought I'd be calling—Drake.