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Chapter Sixty-Seven
Point of View: Narrator

Zoe's phone rang at 6:45 the next morning. She was in the process of doing her hair. She looked at the caller ID, fully intending to ignore it and call back later, but she saw Nick's number and answered it. "Well good morning, Mr. Carter, what on earth has you up so early?"

"I'm sick," he said. He sounded it. His voice was throaty and ripped up, his nose clearly stuffed.

Zoe looked at the phone, "Ohh, are you okay? Did you take Tylenol?" she asked.

"Yes," he muttered, "I'm just going to sleep it off, okay? I'm sorry, I can't drive."

"It's okay," Zoe said, reassuringly, "I'll send some soup with Kayla this afternoon," she promised, thinking of the left over chicken that hadn't made it into the casserole the night before that she had to use up.

"No," Nick's voice was sharp. Then he softened it, "I mean, I don't wanna get Kayla sick, her show's tomorrow night..."

Zoe nodded, even though Nick couldn't see her, and fluffed her hair carefully, studying herself in the mirror, "That's true," she relented. "You're still planning on coming to that, right?" she asked.

"As long as I'm not dead," Nick replied darkly.

"Oh hush," Zoe reprimanded him, "A little cold never killed anyone. Just get your rest, drink orange juice if you have any. If you don't, I'll bring some over."

"I don't want you getting sick, either," he said softly. "I'm fine, Zoe, really. I'll be fine." There was something in his voice though, something ominous and looming, that made Zoe nervous.

"I'll call you later," she promised, "To check on you."

"Okay," Nick answered, and he hung up.

He dropped the cellphone to the tile floor of the bathroom and curled back up again, the scene playing through his mind for the hundredth time... never going so far as the crash, never letting him see the full of what had happened, but consuming him just the same.



"Nick isn't feeling well today," Zoe was explaining to Kayla twenty minutes later, when she'd come downstairs, still floating on cloud nine from the excitement of the demo.

Kayla frowned, "What's wrong with him?"

"It sounded like a cold," Zoe answered with a shrug. She dropped a bowl of cereal down on the table as Kayla grabbed her own bowl and spoon and filled it with Corn Flakes.

"Should I bring him like soup or something?" Kayla asked as she opened the fridge for the milk.

Zoe shook her head, "He doesn't want you getting sick before your show tomorrow night," she answered, "And I agree with him. You need to be in your tip-top shape for that so you can enjoy it. He said he'll come still, and I'll pick him up tomorrow afternoon and make sure he gets pumped full of vitamins. Don't worry."

Kayla was frowning.

"You can go twenty-four hours without seeing him, Kayla," Zoe laughed, "I promise you that you'll live through it. It's a miracle, but you will."

Kayla stuck her tongue out, "I don't want to go twenty-four hours without seeing him. This sucks. Why'd he have to go and get sick now?" Zoe shook her head and ate her cereal as Kayla pouted into hers, pushing the flakes around with her spoon moodily.



It was twelve hours later before Zoe called Nick back. He still hadn't moved from the place he'd been when she'd talked to him the first time, he'd just laid there staring at a dust bunny lodged under the pipes behind the toilet, his mind playing and replaying the scene that it had held captive from him for so long.

He didn't know what to do. Part of him said he had to call Officer Walters, tell him what happened, explain, pray that he understood. The other part told him he had to shut his damn mouth, and pray that forensics would fail, that his tires would somehow magically not match, that they'd botched up the prints. Another part, the immature part, wanted to lock the bathroom door and pretend he could hide in there forever and nobody could ever find him, that they'd eventually forget that this ever happened, and he'd die, alone but not in jail.

"Nick, are you feeling any better at all?" Zoe asked.

"A little," he lied, just so she wouldn't come flying over to check on him. Besides, somewhere around 4 or 5:00, he'd gone numb. So in a way...

Zoe sighed, "Kayla wants to talk to you," she said, handing the phone off to Kayla.

"Nick?" Kayla's voice was like sunshine in his ear, and he felt the images running through his mind fade just the tiniest bit. He felt like there could be hope if he just could hear Kayla's voice forever...

"Kayla," he breathed.

"Aw, Nick, you sound awful," she whispered. Her heart breaking for him. He sounded so sad. "I wish I could give you a big hug and make it better."

"Your voice helps," he said honestly.

Kayla smiled and said, "Then I'll talk all night."

"Please do," he whispered.

They did talk for a long time, she asked him questions about the recording process and how record companies worked. They discussed their plans for when he'd gotten the soundboard installed upstairs, and for working on writing some more songs. Kayla read a couple songs she'd written lyrics to, and he agreed some of them were good if they did some work on them and Kayla was ecstatic because one of them was one of her favorite things she'd ever written.

"Are you going to try to come to the show tomorrow?" she asked, "I know Auntie Zoe said she'd pick you up if you were."

"Yes," he said, "I'll be there if I have to stop my nose with superglue. I promise."

Kayla smiled, "Okay. I'm so excited. Maybe we can all go out and celebrate after and wait for the reviews in the papers like they do in the movies?" she giggled.

"I'll take ya to the Ivy, baby," Nick answered, a smile spreading across his face against the tile floor.

Kayla laughed, "Okay. Aw, I'm so happy."

Nick could imagine her smile in his mind. The words slid out of his mouth subconsciously, but even as they came out, he knew he meant them this time. "I love you," he said.

Kayla paused. "Really?" she asked.

"Really, really," he said.

"Not because you're on like cough meds or something?" she teased.

Nick laughed quietly, "No, for real, baby. I love you, Kayla."

"I love you, too, Nick."

After they'd hung up, Nick closed his eyes and imagined her face, and let it burn into his mind. He clung to that mental image desperately for the rest of the night, using it to shove the memories of Krystal away.