Unscheduled Departure (3 page)

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 needed 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 as 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—"

"I had two midterms today and I just— I'm so sorry Ro."

"It's okay, Linds. He didn't go."

I heard a noise over the phone, could picture Lindsay stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, mouth dropped open in shock. "He what?"

"Changed his mind." I shrugged, even though I knew she couldn't see it. "He said he didn't want to leave me."

Lindsay laughed, full-bodied and loud. "Well, the guy sure has the romantic hero thing down. It's like a friggin' Kate Hudson movie."

I snorted.

"So, you're okay then?" she asked, tentative.

"Yeah." I didn’t even convince myself.

"Ro?"

I sighed. "I don't know, Linds. Something's up with Finn. I don't know if I'm imagining it or what, but . . ."

"But what?"

And that was the rub. I had no idea.

"That settles it," Lindsay said after I'd been quiet for too long. "I'm picking up takeout and I'll be there in twenty minutes. We're going to eat Chinese and have girl talk and—I don't know, hell, bake cookies and do our nails or something."

"Girl talk?"

"Shut up. I can totally do girl talk," she said. "I'll girl talk the heck out of you and we'll figure out all your boy troubles."

"I don't have—"

"Twenty minutes." Lindsay hung up and I closed my mouth when I realized it was still hanging open. Lindsay was a force of nature, but she was also a good friend and maybe . . . maybe I needed to talk to someone about the whole Finn-weirdness that was going on. Someone who'd assure me that I wasn't crazy, but who could give me a rational explanation for everything that had happened.

Someone who could give me a reason that didn't include Finn lying to me.

Finn.

I thumbed through my contacts to his name again, and didn't hesitate to press the call button.

He answered on the second ring. "Hey."

"Hey." I swallowed, nervous, although I knew I shouldn't be. "I, uh. Got your call?"

"Hmm?" He seemed distracted.

"Finn?"

He cleared his throat. "Sorry. Working on a letter to the admissions office. I'm hoping I'll be able to come back next quarter." I heard a couple of clicks, probably his computer keyboard. "What did you say?"

"Um . . . nothing, really. I just got your call, and . . . I thought you were tired?" My heart thumped in my chest, palms sweaty as I waited for his response.

"Kind of," he replied. "But I really wanted to get this letter off. I'm supposed to meet the guys for din—"

"But you're tired. You said you were wiped." I felt my voice rising with my agitation.

"What are you talking about? I'm not that tired."

"You called me. From the private number—"

"Ro—"

"The connection was bad, but you said you were tired. You said you'd call me tomorrow." I forced the words out, even and firm. He had to remember. He had to. "You said you loved me."