One Night Only (Season 1: Deni's Story)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Things don't look any less bleak in the morning. The sky is overcast when I wake up, and the gray light matches my mood. I lie in my bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Mom move around the cottage as she talks to someone on the phone. Her voice is too quiet and muffled for me to make out what she says, but I wouldn't be surprised if it has something to do with what happened yesterday.

As much as I don't want to get up and face the day, my growling, empty stomach isn't having it. I didn't eat more than a few bites of the chicken Mom made for dinner last night, and what I did consume was only at her insistence that I needed to eat. She thought my lack of appetite was solely because of what Bowie did and urged me not to let him win. Then I said something about Hunter thinking I was a liar and not wanting to see me for a while, and the fact that I'd left the cottage without her being aware of it came to light.

I expected questions about how and when I left, and why she didn't see me, but none came. Maybe she knew I snuck out through my bedroom window, or maybe the way I left was the least important thing to her right then. I didn't get a chance to find out. When she put her fork down, gave me a worried look, and told me she was sorry, I hit my emotional breaking point and excused myself from the table.

I can't change yesterday no matter how long I hide out for, so I might as well try to eat something and face whatever today brings. It takes effort and more mental energy than physical, but I push myself up to a sitting position, and then I swing my legs over to the side of the bed.

"Today can't be any worse," I whisper. After standing up and shoving my feet into my slippers, I take a deep breath and open my bedroom door.

"I'm glad you're up," Mom greets me when I emerge from the hallway and into the kitchen. "I just made some coffee, and there's a plate keeping warm in the oven if you want some breakfast."

She's also still in her pajamas. The shadows under her eyes are a sign she didn't sleep much last night and has probably been awake for hours.

"That sounds good, thanks." I head for the cupboard to get a mug.

Mom is quiet while I pour the coffee, but she keeps her eyes on me. She's still watching as I stir in oat milk and raise the mug to my lips.

"What?" I ask, before taking a sip.

"There's something we need to talk about."

I take my time swallowing the hot liquid before I respond. "Please tell me it's something other than Bowie and what happened yesterday. I don't know if I can take much more of that subject today."

"It is. Sort of, anyway. I booked us on a flight back to L.A. tomorrow."

I blink hard. This is one-hundred-percent not the type of other subject I had in mind.

"Tomorrow?" I repeat. "We can't-- I can't leave things like this with Hunter. I need more time here."

"Deni." Mom's expression is just as serious as it was last night when she arrived to take me home from the festival. "I don't want to leave either, but we don't have a choice. Video and reports of what happened yesterday are everywhere. We have no security out here and it's not like I can build a fence, install a security system in someone else's cottage, or ask the local police to patrol the lake."

"People know I was in Thunder Bay," I point out. "We aren't staying in the city. For all anyone knows, I was just there for the day and am in another city now. Besides, who will find me out here at the lake? It's not the most obvious place to look for me."

I take another sip from my mug and wait for her answer. I doubt she can prove me wrong.

"It is for anyone who watched the Instagram video that has your location out here tagged."