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“Don’t fucking do that.”
“Do what?” I smile around my thumb.
His jaw clenches. “Unless you want to get fucking ruined right here with Nate in the next room, I wouldn’t do that again.”
“Need a better threat than that.” I roll my eyes, walking back toward the stovetop and placing my sandwich on the pan. “What was your question?” I turn a little over my shoulder and look at him.
He picks up the grilled cheese and takes a bite. “What do you know about your mom?”
I pause, shuffling around the kitchen to find some paper towels.
“Ahhh, she was my mom?” I answer sarcastically. “I knew all there was to know about her—well, what she would share with me. Why?”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter right now.”
Rolling my eyes, I finish up my meal and then flip them onto a new plate. Walking toward the bar stool, I slide on top and pick up my food. “So why ask then?”
He shrugs, and just as I’m about to ask another question, Nate walks in with his top off, the shirt tucked into his jeans. “What are we talking about in here?” He grins, sliding onto the stool beside mine.
“Oh, you know, random shit.” I take a loud and large bite out of my sandwich. “Oh!” I tap Nate, covering my mouth until I’ve swallowed my food. “I forgot to ask. Have you heard from Tillie?”
Nate looks around the kitchen. “No? Not since the cabin deal.” Nate hasn’t heard from her either? That’s weird. I mean, it was weird enough that Ridge hadn’t heard from her, but the fact that Nate hasn’t got her stashed away somewhere for him to play with whenever he pleases cuts out my idea.
“That’s weird.” I place my sandwich on my plate.
“Why?” Nate and Bishop both ask at the same time. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, tapping on Ridge’s number.
“Because Ridge hasn’t heard from her either, and she never came home from the cabin.”
“That was two months ago,” Nate mutters, his eyebrows pulling in.
“Exactly.”
“I dropped her off at her house, and yeah, she never texted me back, so I left it,” Nate adds, lost in thought.
I hit dial on Ridge’s number and bring my phone to my ear.
“Yo!”
“Ridge?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Sorry,” I murmur, realizing that I never texted him my number. “It’s Madison.”
“Oh!” He sounds surprised. “Hey.”
“Did you ever hear anything back from Tillie?”
“You didn’t hear?” he asks in muffled tones. Beeping cars and light chatting fade off in the distance.
“Hear what?” I answer as my heart pounds in my chest.
Please, God, no.
“She’s been a missing person case since. No one has heard from her and no one knows where she is.”
“What?” I look up at Nate, who is watching me intently. He looks worried; I can see it in his eyes. “No one told me anything because I’ve been out of the country for the past couple of months.” I put my phone down and put it on speaker. “You’re on speaker phone, and Nate and Bishop are here with me, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” he snickers, though his tone doesn’t seem too impressed.
“So can you tell us everything, please?” I urge him, pushing my plate out of the way with my now suddenly lost appetite.
“Well, Nate dropped her off at home after your guys’ trip. She stayed for the next couple of weeks but was sick. I went to see her a couple of times, and she was throwing up, pale, and just… sick. Anyway, the last time I saw her, she was acting weird as fuck. She always loved our kick-back sessions.”
I look up at Nate, not being able to pass the opportunity. Grinning, I say, “You mean your sex sessions?”
Nate evil-eyes me, flipping me off. I grin deeper.
“Uhh…,” Ridge mutters. “Yeah… she told you?” he asks into the phone.
“Yeah, anyway, so what happened?”
Bishop pulls out the bar stool next to me, his thigh brushing mine. I flinch slightly, annoyed at myself once again how much my body sparks to life at his mere proximity, let alone his freaking touch.
“So she rushed me out of the house and then I never heard from her again. Her dad said she left with a suitcase and took his car. They found his car off the interstate a couple of days later, but it was empty with the keys left inside of it. The trail has gone cold and, yeah, again, no one knows where she is. Her cards haven’t been used or anything either. She’s just gone.”
A ball forms in my throat. “Why would she leave?” I whisper, confused. Why would she leave and not even leave a note for anyone? I wouldn’t know if she sent me a text because I haven’t had my phone, but what is her reasoning?
“Ridge,” I start, my brain ticking through ideas. “Who else did she hang with?”
