When few people remain, my dad comes down the hall and says, “I checked every bathroom. He’s not here, Pip. Still no contact?”

“No, none at all.”

He tucks his hands in his pockets. “If you want my opinion, I don’t think he’s a missing person. I think he’s just missing this event. It was kind of boring.” He half smiles at me and rests his hand on my shoulder. “You were the highlight.” The emptiness I feel is overwhelming, so much that even the kindest of gestures from my dad can’t help me. “I think we should go, Lark.”

I don’t remember walking to the truck or getting in, strapping on my seat belt, or driving away from graduation. The mystery of Harbor’s disappearance was the only thing on my mind. But when my dad got a text on the way to his house, my hands started to shake again. Anxious, I ask, “What is it?”

He pulls up to the curb and leaves the engine running. With his elbow anchored on the open window, he rubs his forehead. He exhales, caught in a conflict of his mind.

My heart starts racing, and I reach over to touch his arm. “Dad? Is it . . .” I can’t say the words or his name, my thoughts running to the worst that could happen.

Dad gets out of the driver’s seat and shuts the door. Leaning in the window, he says, “Go see the Westcotts.” He taps the top of the cab and then turns to walk up the path.

“Why?” I call, leaning over from the other side of the truck.

“I don’t know, Pip. It’s best you talk to them.”

The panic I feel inside worsens, but I don’t rush to the driver’s side and take off to The Pointe Estates. I sit on the passenger side, my mind going wild with what might be happening or already did. I’m not sure, but my heart tells me I’m not ready.

Taking a breath and then a longer one, I exhale and slide over the bench behind the steering wheel. I shift into gear and start the journey.

It’s only twenty minutes if there’s no traffic, but it’s the longest drive of my life. I don’t know how long it took, my mind reliving every detail of the last time I saw him and every word we spoke. “I love you, Lark. Remember that, okay?”

That’s why they didn’t call his name to accept a diploma.

This was planned all along.

That’s why his parents weren’t there.

He knew he was leaving.

That means . . .

He was leaving me.

38

Lark

I shift the truck into park but stay, idling in the driveway of the Westcott estate. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t seeing Harbor’s car parked near the front door.

I feel sick.

That’s something I never felt with Harbor before.

Nothing makes sense, so maybe he can unwind this mess and make it right again.