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Birds fly by outside my window, chasing each other playfully. Their cheerful chirping momentarily distracts me from my anxiousness.
The gates open, and Kennedy’s black sedan rolls through. Finally. I take a last look in the mirror, adjust my tie and smooth my suit, then head down the stairs.
My parents and grandparents are in the foyer. People stream in, each one welcomed personally. Clearing my throat, I approach them.
"Jackson, where's Brinn?" my mom asks, looking at her watch. “The guests are already arriving.”
I rub my chin. "Kennedy just pulled up. She should be here any minute." My stomach twists. Something doesn’t feel right. Brinn never texted. What is going on?
I brush past my parents and out the front door. Kennedy exits the driver's seat, his face unreadable. He never goes to open the back door but walks straight to me.
Oh no.
He pulls me to the side, leaning in to speak softly. "Brinn wasn't at her apartment. The man at the reception desk said he hasn’t seen her all day. I’m sorry, Jackson.”
Fear tugs at my heart. My body goes rigid. Where is she?
"Perhaps you can call her brother?" Kennedy suggests.
I shake my head in defiance. "No. I can’t call my best friend and tell him his sister is missing."
"So, what do you want to do? Your parents are going to start asking questions when we walk in without her.” Kennedy looks toward the front door.
Then I see him. Trevor. He’s by the corner of the house, arms crossed, smiling smugly. He has something to do with this, I’m sure of it. I spring to him, grabbing him by the shirt.
"What do you know?"
He shrugs. "Just the truth."
"What truth?" I twist his shirt tighter.
"That Brinn isn’t really your fiancée. We had a little chat about it the other night.”
I want to put my fist in his face, but instead, I push him with both hands, sending him flying to the ground. My parents and grandfather rush to the scene. Some of our private security reach out to help him up.
“Leave him,” I bark. “It’s what he deserves.”
"Jackson, why would you do that?" my grandfather asks.
I smooth my hair back in place. "He’s the reason Brinn isn’t here. This is all his fault.” But I’m not going to stick around for this conversation. I have to find her.
“Kennedy, let’s go.” We move quickly to the car.
"Where to?" Kennedy asks.
“I don’t know yet. Just drive and get us away from here.” I glance back at the house to see everyone gathered around Trevor. I’m sure he’ll find a way to spin this to make me look bad, but I don’t care anymore. I just want Brinn.
We drive aimlessly for fifteen minutes before it hits me. I know where she is. I guide Kennedy to Greyson and Brinn’s childhood home across town. It’s a ten-minute trip, and my leg taps uneasily the entire drive.
When we finally arrive, I ask Kennedy to park across the street from the house, next to a playground. Brinn is on the swings. “I’ll be back,” I tell him.
Growing up, I remember whenever she would get upset about anything, Brinn would run to the playground and spend hours on the swings. I guess it’shercomfort zone. By the time she came back, she always looked happy again.
I approach the swings from behind. The rhythmic creaking reminds me of elementary school recess. Brinn’s immersed in her own world, gently swinging back and forth. She’s wearing a yellow dress adorned with a delicate floral print. Her brown hair sways gracefully in the breeze. She’s never looked so beautiful.
I hate to disturb her peace, but we need to talk. “Hey,” I call out, trying not to startle her. “Mind if I join you?”
Brinn freezes. Her eyes widen when she turns around.
