“What if we don’t find him?” I say, the words barely above a whisper. My heart aches for Rex, hoping he’s okay and not scared or injured. My brain is wondering if I made the stupidest decision ever to quit my career and start a business. Maybe I shouldn’t be following my passions. I should just stick to the safe, easy path.
“We’ll find him,” Ethan says. “We’ll drive around all night. We’ll get him back.”
“Thanks, man.” He’s not much older than me, but his confidence brings me back to earth a bit. It’s not like Rex disappeared off the face of the planet. He’s here, somewhere. He’s no doubt upset about the rain, and in the morning when the sun comes out, he’ll come back. He has to come back.
We’ve reached the main road, where streetlights are on and more civilization exists. My phone lights up with a flurry of notifications.
“Signal’s back!” Ethan says, picking up his phone that has an equally large amount of notifications coming in.
My eyes see Charlotte’s name before anything else. I click on her messages and my jaw drops.
Charlotte: I have Rex. Long story. Here’s my address:
chapter twenty-one
Charlotte
Exhaustion tugs at my eyelids. It’s three in the morning, and all I have to do is close my eyes and I’ll instantly fall asleep. But as I lay on my couch, the TV playing old episodes of The Office, I can’t quite let myself sleep, even though I desperately want to. Rex lays on a makeshift dog bed in the corner. I dug out a couple old blankets and towels and made the softest bed I could manage using all the linens I don’t mind getting dirty. He immediately walked over and got cozy on it, like he knew it was for him.
My phone has no signal, so I’ve had no connection with the outside world. This exhaustion has me feeling like Rex and I are in the apocalypse, managing as best as we can. I giggle to myself and Rex opens one eye in my direction.
My neighbor usually goes to work around five in the morning, so I’m seriously considering catching her in the parking lot and asking if she has phone signal so I could call Caleb.
Rex has a bowl of water, and I fed him some blueberries, baby carrots, and a hard-boiled egg. That’s all dog safe food, I’mpretty sure. I know he’d probably like some meat, but all I have is some frozen ground turkey.
I can’t bring myself to go to bed, because I feel like I should be watching him, making sure he’s okay. And that he doesn’t decide to eat me. Or my furniture.
My phone lights up. No, it rings!
Rex and I sit up at the same time. A flood of relief hits me almost painfully hard when I see Caleb’s name on the call screen.
“Hey!” I answer, breathless. Rex appears by my side, tail wagging.
“Charlotte? You have Rex?”
“Yes!”
“What? Why? How!” Caleb’s voice is ecstatic. He doesn’t sound like he’s gotten any sleep at all. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” I say, smiling at the giant dog. Seriously, I’m sitting on my couch and he’s standing in front of me, nearly eye level.
“The signal might cut out again soon, so I’m on my way.”
“Hurry.”
“Hurry?”
“Well, no,” I say, hearing the panic in his voice. “Everything is fine, but like… hurry?”
He chuckles nervously. “I’ll be right over.”
Twenty-three minutes later, he arrives. I open the door before he can knock. Just the sight of him sends a hundred pound weight of relief through my body. A yawn overtakes me, like my body is sayingplease take me to bed now. Caleb stands in my apartment doorway, watching me yawn in what is probably the world’s longest yawn. If only the Guinness Book of World Records people were here to capture it.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, stepping forward and into his arms. I flinch at the feel of his cold, wet cotton t-shirt, but hold onto him even tighter. For one terrifying car ride and the hour ortwo after, I’ve been on the verge of a full blown panic attack. But Caleb is here now, and he’ll fix this.
His skin is cold and damp, like he walked miles here instead of driving. That cold, damp cheek presses to my forehead as I hold onto him for longer than I probably should. But what can I say? The exhaustion and worry over Rex has taken everything out of me. Finally, a small bit of sense comes back to me and I let him go.
“Sorry. It’s been a weird night.”
