Page 91 of Split You Open

There’s only one way to find out. His phone should be charged by now.

Carefully, I peel myself out from between Wes and Rhett and scramble out of the nest of blankets and pillows that Santi had brought down last night. Tiptoeing out of the room, I slip upstairs and into Wes’s room.

There, on his dresser is Ledger’s burner phone, charged.

Flipping it open, I turn it on. My heart hammers in my chest as I wait for it to boot up.

This is it.

I’m about to find out if Dad’s alive or if Ledger’s been lying to us.

The phone boots up and I stare at the plain background of the small screen. Before I can even open the message app, someone calls out.

“Blair?”

I jump at the sound of Santi’s voice. Looking over my shoulder, I see him hurrying into the room.

“Oh, thank god! I was having a nightmare that you were killed, then when I woke up and found you missing I started freaking out. The others are—” he looks down at the phone in my hand. “Oh! Any messages from Ledger to your dad?”

Before I can respond, Wes’s voice bellows through the house.

“BLAIR!”

I wince at the worry in his tone.

“She’s up here in your room!” Santi calls back.

There’s a thundering of footsteps and suddenly Wes and Rhett burst into the room. They both look like they’ve been woken up abruptly. Rhett’s hair is all in disarray and Wes is still blinking sleep from his eyes.

“See? I wasn’t the only one worried!” Santi points out.

“Crying out ‘Blair’s dead’ will do the trick, Santi!” Rhett snaps. “Don’t fucking do that again!”

Wes strolls across the room and reaches up to cup the back of my neck. Instantly, I relax and it appears Wes does too because he lets out a sigh and his shoulders sag.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice rough from sleep.

I chuckle, anxiously. “I think I should be asking you that.”

“I think I just lost ten years off my life after waking up like that,” Wes grumbles as he shoots Santi a glare.

Santi throws his hands up. “Now you guys know how I felt when I woke to find her gone!”

Rhett opens his mouth to argue, his scowl deepening, but Wes cuts him off.

“Now that we’re awake, maybe we just focus on the messages Ledger apparently sent to Anchor.”

This cuts the other two off. They look at the phone then up at me.

“I haven’t read anything yet,” I admit softly, looking at each of them.

“Go ahead, baby girl,” Wes urges softly.

Looking from them, to the phone, I open the messages app and read the last few that came in:

Sparrow: Figured out who’s leading this dance. The name is Dixie.

Anchor: Ten red days, and a horn’s blowing south.