“Don’t call the police.”
I hear him exhale. I don’t even like to think about how worried he was. It makes me hurt in all the most painful places. “Riley,” he says softly. “Where are you?”
I wonder what the best answer is. Should I go with honesty? I’m at Matt’s. Fiona is away again. Or should I go with a lie? I can tell him whatever I want, and yet it doesn’t feel right, lying to him. It just doesn’t. That’s one of the biggest reasons I didn’t call to cancel. It would have been too hard to lie, and too hard to tell the truth.
“Matt’s,” I finally say.
Silence. Thick, harsh, judgmental silence. Disgusted silence. “Come on. Please tell me you’re playing some sick joke on me.”
“That wouldn’t be a very funny joke.”
Silence, again. It hurts so much. They describe silences as sliceable some
