Unscheduled Departure Page 2

  "Finn?"

  "Yeah?"

  I reached across the seat to take his hand. "Don't get me wrong. I'm so glad you're here. You don't even know."

  He smiled and winked at me. "Yeah. Me too."

  "But what changed your mind?" I asked.

  He signaled and turned a corner before he answered. "I was feeling off all morning. But in the end, I guess it was your text."

  I rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand. "When I said I'd miss you?" That was so sweet.

  "When you asked me not to go," he replied.

  What?

  "Wait a second. I didn't. I didn't ask you." What was he talking about?

  Finn glanced at me, brow furrowed. "You did. You said you were going to miss me, then you said, 'don't go.' When I saw that—"

  "But I didn't," I let go of his hand and pulled my phone out of my purse. "I mean, I was going to. I wanted to. But I didn't." I thumbed my phone open, flipped to my text messages. "I couldn't ask that of you. I couldn't be the one—" I scrolled through my texts, stabbing my finger at the thread with Finn. "I couldn't . . ."

  I miss you already.

  I miss you too.

  "I couldn't . . ."

  Please don't go.

  "Ro?" I jolted, and realized he must have called my name more than once.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  I cleared my throat and looked back down at my phone.

  Please don't go.

  But I didn't . . . I hadn't.

  "I don't understand," I said quietly. "I mean, I thought I deleted that."

  This time Finn reached across the seat to take my hand. He pressed it to his lips, smiling against my skin. "I'm glad you didn't," he said.

  I smiled weakly. "Yeah. Yeah, me too."

  I thought for sure I'd deleted the text. I'd agonized over it, but in the end, I decided I couldn't put that kind of pressure on Finn. I felt bad that, in the end, I had. At the same time, Finn was now sitting next to me, so a small part of me felt victorious. Ecstatic.

  Selfish.

  I hadn't meant to, but I'd kept Finn in Seattle.

  "I wanted to stay," he said, as if he'd read my mind. "I wanted to, Ro. It was my choice."

  I nodded and turned to look out the window. The decision was made, and feeling guilty served no purpose anyway. I stared down at my phone, the text glowing. . . accusing, until the screen went black.

  7:57 AM

  Finn ignored the No Parking sign and pulled right up to the front of Guthrie Hall, home of the Department of Psychology. I leaned across the console to kiss him quickly goodbye.

  "See you later," he said.

  I smirked. "Later, Finnester."

  He got kind of a funny look on his face, then said, "Not my name." He bopped me on the nose before I ducked out of the car to run up the steps, hoping I wouldn't be late for the pop quiz that everyone knew was coming.

  Finn took off to grab some coffee and make some much-needed phone calls before he had to be back to pick me up in an hour. I paused, frowning as I watched the car turn the corner.

  He'd kissed me . . . weirdly.

  I didn't know how else to describe it. Maybe he was distracted. Maybe it was because I was in a hurry. His lips looked the same, felt the same, but something was different. Weird.

  Ugh. I obviously needed more coffee.

  I shook off the strange feeling and raced down the hall, taking my seat in the lecture hall mere seconds before the clock hit the top of the hour and Professor Simons announced the pop quiz.

  9:07 AM

  "How'd it go?" Finn asked as I got into the car after class.

  I shrugged. "Fine. I guess. Pop quizzes aren't worth much, so I'm not that worried."

  Finn nodded as he pulled away from the curb. He headed to the diner around the corner from my ten o'clock English class and I thumbed through my phone, not looking for anything in particular. We parked and made our way into the restaurant, ordering coffee and breakfast sandwiches at the counter since I was relatively short on time.

  "Did you talk to your mom?" I asked.

  Finn took a sip of his coffee— black and disgusting— as I added more sugar to my own cup.

  "Yeah," he replied. "She . . . wasn't happy."

  "What's she going to do?"

  "I'm not sure. I suggested she take over or turn it over to the board. Maybe sell out— there's another developer who's been chomping at the bit to buy us out since dad died."

  "Is she willing to do that?"

  Finn sighed and tore a piece of bread from the corner of his sandwich, crumbling it between his fingers. "Not yet. She may not have a choice, if she doesn't want to take the reins herself." He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of his chair. I picked up my sandwich and Finn reached down to unbutton his sleeve and roll up the cuff.

  Wait a second.

  I set my sandwich back down. "Did you go home?"

  He rolled up his other sleeve. "No. I just got some coffee and waited for you."

  "But—" I reached out and grabbed his wrist, unrolling his sleeve. His pale, yellow sleeve, unstained by coffee. "When did you change your shirt?"

  "What?"

  "Your shirt. You spilled coffee on it this morning."

  He nodded slowly. "Yeah? I know. I was there."

  I sat back, confused. "But I thought—” I reached for his other arm. Maybe I had the wrong sleeve. “I thought it was white.”

  "Ro, what’s the big deal?" Finn asked, pulling away to roll his sleeves back up again. "Yes, I spilled coffee on my sleeve this morning. Which is why I changed my shirt before we left for the airport."

  "What?" I blinked. That wasn't what happened. Was it? "No. You wiped it off. We were in a hurry."

  "I changed, Ro."

  "But it was white. Your shirt was white."

  "Right. And now it's yellow. Because I changed it." Finn's forehead creased with confusion. I didn't blame him. I was pretty confused myself.

  "God, what's wrong with me? Sorry." I muttered, wiping a hand over my face. "I’m just tired, I guess. I could have sworn—" I laughed, shaking my hand. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  First the text I thought I'd deleted. Now the mystery of the missing coffee stain.

  "It's not a big deal," Finn said with a laugh. "It's just a shirt."

  “Right. Yeah.”

  He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the tip of my index finger. It was something he always did and it never failed to make me smile, although it made my best friend Lindsay roll her eyes and make gagging noises. I pushed my finger lightly against Finn's lips and he grinned.

  "Love you," he said.

  "Love you, too." I glanced at my phone. "But I better move it if I'm going to get to class on time."

  We both picked up our sandwiches and started to eat. But my eyes still kept drifting to that unstained shirt cuff. And I couldn't calm the nervous flutter in my stomach that said something, somehow, wasn't quite right.

  9:55 AM

  I left Finn at the diner and headed to class, still feeling itchy— uneasy— with that heaviness in my stomach like when you're a kid and you know you're about to get in trouble.

  I couldn't explain it. Couldn't understand what was wrong, really. But something deep inside me felt off. Was I forgetting things or imagining them?

  I had no reason not to believe Finn about the shirt. I mean, why in the world would he lie about something like that, anyway? And the text spoke for itself. I saw it on my own phone— so obviously, I hadn't deleted it like I thought I had.

  Neither thing was a big deal. But no matter how I tried to convince myself of that, I couldn't shake that odd, apprehensive feeling.

  I texted Lindsay, even though I knew she had class for the next couple of hours, and asked if she wanted to get together for dinner. We hadn't seen each other for about a week, which was unheard of for us. But with Finn leaving, I'd been spending most of my time with him. Lindsay understood, but I found myself wanting to talk to her. I ne
eded her to reassure me that I wasn't losing it or something.

  My phone rang as I went to drop it back into my bag, and I frowned at the screen where it indicated a private number. I figured it was probably a telemarketer, but curiosity won out and I answered as I rounded the corner and the English building came into sight.

  "Hello?"

  "Ro?"

  "Finn?" He sounded strange, the connection weak and crackly. "I can hardly hear you. Are you in the car?"

  He said something I couldn't make out. There was a lot of noise in the background— something like a loudspeaker? But that didn't make any sense. Maybe it was the radio.

  "Finn?"

  The line went dead.

  I stared at my phone for a moment before pulling up Finn's number and thumbing out a quick text.

  Everything okay?

  It took a moment for a reply.

  Yeah. Then a few seconds later: Aren't you supposed to be in class?

  I swore under my breath when I noticed the time and shoved my phone into my pocket as I started to run. I'd call Finn later, or he'd call me. I figured it couldn't have been anything too important or he would have called back. I silenced my ringer as I entered the building and tried to put the morning's weirdness out of my mind.

  12:12 PM

  I stood on the curb after my last class of the day and searched approaching traffic for Finn's car. It had been a long day, even though it was technically only half over, and I couldn't wait to get back to my apartment, crawl into my bed, and sleep for about two or three hours. Maybe days.

  I was exhausted.

  With Finn nowhere in sight, I realized I'd left my ringer off and pulled out my phone to find a couple of missed texts from him.

  At 11:30— Stuck in traffic on the bridge. Then just a few minutes before noon— Be there as soon as I can. Meet me at Perk?

  I set off for the coffee shop a block away, texting back a quick yes, then I noticed I'd also missed a call.

  Private Number.

  I dialed into my voicemail only to hear Finn's voice. A little clearer than last time, but still a bad connection.

  "Hey, Ro! Sorry, the service here is bad. I'm ducked into a—" His words broke into incoherent syllables for a moment. "—love you, and I know we can make it through this." He paused, and I heard more noise in the background. "They're calling my—" More broken noise and dead air. "—call you later. Love you."

  I frowned at the phone as the call cut off. I went to press 9 to save the message, but a bump at my arm made me hit the 7 instead.

  "Message deleted."

  I cursed, looking up with a glare as a man rushed by me with a muttered "Excuse me" thrown over his shoulder.

  I toyed with my phone for a moment, wishing there was an undo button. Finn had sounded kind of odd. I didn't know why I'd wanted to save the message, really. There was just something so unusual about it. The private number. The noise in the background. I checked the time of the incoming call, and it actually arrived after Finn's texts. So why was he calling when he'd already texted to tell me he was running late? And why was his number showing up on texts, but not on calls?

  The day just kept getting stranger.

  I got to Perk just as Finn pulled up to the curb, waving at me through the passenger window. I pulled the door open and tossed in my bag.

  "Did you want coffee?" he asked, putting the car into park.

  "God, no," I said with a laugh. "I need sleep more than caffeine, I think. This has been one weird day." I all but collapsed into the car, pulling the door shut behind me.

  "Home, Phineas."

  "Not my name," he said without missing a beat. He pulled smoothly into traffic. "My home or yours?" he asked with a smirk.

  "Mine, please," I murmured, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. "I just want to go to bed."

  "You okay?"

  I hummed something in response. "Where were you when you called?" I asked, half-dozing already.

  "Hmm?"

  I opened my eyes to look at him drowsily. "I got your voicemail, but I couldn't really hear what you were saying."

  He scanned the road before turning the corner leading to my apartment building. "Voicemail?"

  I sat up, the queasy feeling in my stomach easing back in. "You said you had bad service. Said you loved me and we'd make it through this."

  "Through what?"

  "You tell me." I was getting irritated. What the hell was going on?

  "Ro, I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, pulling to an abrupt stop in the parking lot of my apartment building. "I never left a voicemail. Not today."

  I fumbled in my bag for my phone. I was not imagining this. "You did. You called—" I thumbed through my calls and held it up victoriously so he could see. "—at 12:06 p.m. today. See?"

  His eyes narrowed at the screen. "That says Private Number."

  "Yeah. Yeah, I know. I was going to ask you about that."

  "Why do you think that was me?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Because you left a voicemail!" My voice grew louder, a little screechy, but I couldn't help it.

  "Babe, I never left you a voicemail today!" Finn said, aggravation growing in his own tone. He pulled out his own phone and stabbed at it a few times. Finn's familiar ringtone sounded on my phone, his picture popping up on the screen, along with his name.

  "See?" he said. "At 12:06 I was driving. I didn't call you. Whoever that Private Number was, it wasn't me." He tapped his phone and the ringtone stopped.

  I stared at my phone and rubbed my forehead. My stomach roiled and an ache throbbed behind my eyes. "I don't understand. I heard—"

  "Let me listen to the voicemail."

  "It...got deleted." I met Finn's unreadable gaze and knew how it sounded. Weird. Crazy. But I had heard him. It was Finn.

  Wasn't it?

  "I don't know what's happening," I murmured, my hands trembling as I brushed the hair away from my face. "I know what I heard."

  "Ro," Finn reached across the car to grab my hand, wrapping it up in both of his. "It's okay."

  "But—"

  "We'll figure it out," he said, eyes wide and earnest. "I'm right here. We're together and we'll figure it out, I promise." He kissed my finger with a smile. "But after you sleep, okay?"

  I forced a shaky smile. "Yeah. Okay."

  "You want me to walk you up?" he asked.

  I shook my head. Suddenly, I wanted to be alone. To go to sleep. To not think about all of this for a while. "I'll be fine. I'll call you later?"

  "Okay." He leaned across the seat to kiss me. "Sleep well."

  I nodded and got out of the car, waving at Finn and only letting my smile fall once he drove away.

  I wasn't convinced. I knew what I had heard, and no matter what Finn said, it was him on that voice mail. I wondered if maybe the message was old— one I'd missed. I couldn't imagine how that might have happened, but I wasn't ruling it out just yet.

  Because the alternative was one I wasn't quite ready to explore: If it was a new voice mail, and it was Finn who'd left it, that meant he was lying to me.

  And I had no idea why.

  3:22 PM

  I blinked against the afternoon sunlight filtering through the gap in my bedroom curtains and stretched, surprised that I'd slept for so long. My stomach growled, reminding me that I'd skipped lunch, and I fumbled on the nightstand for my phone, hoping Lindsay would be up for an early dinner.

  I scrolled through my texts, but she hadn't responded so I texted her again.

  Starving and looking for an early dinner. Hitting the diner in 20. You in?

  I rolled out of bed, figuring she'd join me if she was free and was just slipping on some shoes when my phone rang.

  Private Number.

  My stomach dropped and I hesitated, staring at the screen as the phone buzzed in my hand, the sound seeming to grow louder with every ring, echoing around the otherwise-silent room. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, tingles racing down my spine a
s my thumb hovered over the answer button.

  What was I doing? What was wrong with me? Afraid to answer my own phone?

  It was ridiculous. I knew it was ridiculous, but I sat frozen for a long moment before I jolted, suddenly frantic, and pressed the call button with a trembling hand.

  "Hello?" My voice was a cracked whisper. I cleared my throat and spoke a little louder. "Hello? Finn?"

  "Hi, it's me . . . can you hear me?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I can hear you." I let out a soft laugh. "I can believe I was so freaked out. I thought—"

  "Rowan? Can you hear me?"

  "I'm here. Finn?"

  "Crap. This connection is terrible. Um. . . If you can hear me—"

  "I can hear you!" My heart pounded. I wanted to reach out and touch him, frantic for some reason I couldn't put my finger on.

  " —just wanted to let you know I'm here."

  "Finn?"

  "—wiped, so I'm going to try and get some sleep and I . . . uh . . guess I'll call you later. Maybe tomorrow, okay? Love you."

  The call ended and I fumbled with the phone, hitting the call back button in desperate hope.

  "Your call cannot be completed as dialed . . ."

  A blend of fear and fury swept through me. What the hell was going on? With shaking fingers I scrolled through my contacts to Finn's number. Where was he calling me from? Why was he calling me? What was happening?

  My phone buzzed with an incoming call and I jolted.

  Lindsay.

  I took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart and answered. "Linds?"

  "Hey. Got your text. I can do dinner, but not at the diner, okay? You up for Chinese?"

  "Um . . . yeah, yeah, sure. That sounds good."

  "You sound kind of funny. Everything okay?" She paused, and I thought about how to answer, but she beat me to it. "Oh, crap. Finn left this morning, right? I can't believe I forgot."

  This morning? Had it only been this morning? "No, it's not—"