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Next, I drive out to the dog park I’ve taken him to a few times. The rain is coming down in sheets, so hard that I have to squint to detect any movement outside. He’s not in the fenced-in area. He’s not roaming around outside. I pinch my eyes closed and try to think. He’s out here in the storm, scared and alone. He could be anywhere. Terrible images of him cowering beneath a bridge or hiding in a ditch bring out another sob. Don’t think like that, I remind myself. He’s Mouse, he’s probably having the time of his life getting wet and muddy. I just need to find him before the fun is over.
I take a deep breath, and because it feels so good, I force another.
I will find him, and I’ll bring him home.
I put the car in reverse with plans to head back and check to see if he’s returned to my apartment, but the car doesn’t move. My tires spin in the mud, digging themselves deeper and deeper.
SHIT.
I bang my hands on my steering wheel.
SHIT SHIT SHIT.
My whole body is shaking. Panic is starting to creep up within me, overtaking logic and reason. I quell the sensation and assess the situation: I’m at the town’s dog park, which is a couple miles away from my apartment. There is a raging monsoon taking place outside and now, my car is stuck in the mud.
I glance down and my heart lurches in my chest.
When I ran out of my apartment earlier, I was panicked. I assumed I would find Mouse within a few minutes. I didn’t think to slip on shoes. No purse. No phone. I’m wearing sleep shorts and a tank top.
“Okay, okay, okay,” I say to myself, trying to calm down.
My shaking hands clench the steering wheel and I let myself have three seconds to despair in my complete ineptitude. I have no phone. I have no phone, which means I can’t call someone for help. I have no phone, which means I’m stuck out here until I can get my car out of the mud. My lungs won’t inflate. I can’t breathe. I think I’m having a panic attack, but there’s no one around to confirm or deny that for me. I’m by myself, lost without Mouse.CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURADAMMadeleine won’t answer her phone, and it’s starting to piss me off. I understand that Olivia being in town has thrown our new relationship off balance, but it’s not reason to go radio silent.
I dial again, and get nothing but voicemail.
It’s an hour after the training class ended. Olivia is back at my mom’s house, packing for her flight in the morning. She’s leaving, and I’m not sad about it. In fact, I’m relieved to have her out of Texas. She came here under the guise of closure, but in reality, she came crawling on her hands and knees, trying to pick up right where we left off. After a few glasses of wine at dinner two days ago, she revealed that her life has taken a nosedive in the last few months. Ryan, my old best friend, left her a few weeks ago. Turns out starting a relationship with an affair isn’t a great predictor of long-term stability. Evidently he was cheating on her—and she tried to spin it as God letting her know how I felt when it happened to me. As if her getting fucked over was going to be some bonding experience for us. It took everything in me not to laugh. I apologized and wished her well.
She didn’t take me seriously at first. For so many years, Olivia had me wrapped around her finger. She said jump and I asked how high. I think she assumed she could fly down here and I would leap right back into her arms.
Her showing up to the training class was a last-ditch effort to convince me she was serious about wanting to get back together. Unfortunately, she went too far. Telling the class she was my fiancée was an underhanded way to stick it to Madeleine, the “friend” I told her about over dinner.
I’m serious about her, I said.
Olivia didn’t believe me. In fact, she laughed at the possibility.
You think you’re going to settle down with some Texas girl you met a few weeks ago? Can’t you see it’s just a phase, Adam? You’re meant for so much more than this shitty town.
I smiled, asked for the check, and told her to book a flight back to Chicago.
We’re done.
I stare down at my phone now, wondering how many calls I can make to Madeleine before I verge on stalker territory. Then I do one better—I grab my keys and head for my car. It’s still raining as I head to her apartment. I could wait until the morning to see her, but there’s no reason to continue on like this. She’s assumed the worst, I know it. She thinks that because we’ve only been together a few weeks, I’m going to go right back to Olivia. That’s on me, and I have to fix it. She might not want to take my phone calls, but she’ll have to answer her door.
