You'll Just Know

Chapter 7-Brit

*A/N-Hope you all like this! It's kind of short, sorry, I've been really hung up on school and basketball! Love y'all xx

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My eyes snapped open. I didn’t exactly know what had woken me up until the phone rang a second time. Immediately I sat up, a surge of dread freezing my veins. I took a look at the alarm clock on my bedside table. It was 6:30 in the morning. Who would call this early?

I only knew one answer.

I leaped from my bed, wrenching the door open and running into the kitchen like the house had caught on fire. It may as well have been. Anything would have been better than the look on my mom’s face as she leaned against the counter, the home phone smashed to her ear.

My dad entered the room just as I did. “Put it on speaker,” he ordered her, his voice deadly calm. My mother’s eyes were wide and glassy as she manically pulled the phone from her ear and pressed the speaker button.

“He’s dead, Rachel. He’s gone,” Trisha sobbed hysterically into the phone. I could hear people talking in the background. Immediately my mind went to Luke, and I could almost picture him sitting on the floor, his face in his hands. I couldn’t believe it myself. Dave Reed, was, gone?

My parents immediately assured Trisha they would be there within ten minutes. I pulled on some workout shorts and a t-shirt. I put my hair in a bun, not even caring what I looked like. All I could think about was the fact that Dave was gone, and how the people he left must feel. 

The ride over was filled with silence, like the last one to the Reeds’ house, but now for a different reason. I realized less than twenty-four hours I had been sitting at their kitchen table, with the living, breathing David only a few feet away. And now he was dead.

We pulled into the driveway. I caught a glimpse of my dad as we all hurried up to the front door. His face was drawn, his features tight as he knocked on the door, harder than I thought was necessary. His jaw clenched and unclenched as we waited for someone to answer the door.

There were no cars, the people talking in the background during Trisha’s phone call must have already left.

The door was jerked open. My eyes widened as I came face to face with Lucas. His gaze was steely, dark, and angry. It looked completely and utterly wrong on his normally goodnatured face. 

Immediately my mother burst into tears, wrapping her arms around Lucas. His face remained hard and cold as he stared off into someplace I couldn’t see. I sighed inwardly, knowing that Lucas probably didn’t need another crying woman on his hands. He had enough to deal with already. 

But before I could pry my mother from him, a call from the living room revived her. “Rach?” Trisha’s meek voice asked.

My mother gasped, and without waiting another second, rushed into the living room, where I heard another round of sobbing, this time, twice the volume, and twice the agony. 

My dad and I stayed behind with Lucas, seeming to all take a different approach than the two women. We stood in silence for a few minutes. I stared down at Lucas’ hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts, the fists visible through the thin material.

I snuck a glance at his green eyes. But they were dry. No tears. Just downright terrible nothingness. 

Finally, my father cleared his throat, breaking the silence. Glimpsing my dad’s watery eyes, I guessed he was trying to be strong for Lucas. “Luke, how ‘bout we go throw the football out back?”