The smile drops from my face.
My stomach sinks.
My feet move on their own, and before I know it I’m standing beside him. His eyes dart over me frantically—the same green as Ashton’s, just a little darker. His jaw is set tight, tension carved into every line of his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quickly.
He swallows hard. “Have you seen Ashton today?”
I freeze. “What?”
“I just—” He stops, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you guys are close friends, right? I thought maybe you might’ve heard from him.”
I blink a few times, trying to catch up. “Um… not since this morning.”
I bite my tongue, carefully leaving out the part where he woke up in my bed.
Luke blows out a slow breath. “Okay. That’s what I was afraid of.”
A knot tightens in my chest.
“Luke,” I say, more firmly now, “what’s wrong?”
A frown tugs at his lips. “He was supposed to come over to our parents’ house tonight. It’s Justin’s birthday. Chloe made dinner for everyone.” His teeth catch his bottom lip. “But he never showed up. We’ve tried calling him, texting him… he’s not answering.”
My chest tightens. That doesn’t sound like him at all. Ashton—the man who would drop everything for his siblings. The man who would never miss his little brother’s eighteenth birthday dinner for the world.
A cold rush of panic slides through my veins.
This morning he said he’d be working at the old barn. He was going to start tearing out some of the rotted boards so they could be replaced. He was so excited about it.
“He went to the orchard this morning,” I blurt. “We should check there.”
Luke’s brows draw together. “The orchard? But the harvest season’s over.”
Shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that.
Ashton hasn’t told any of his siblings about his plans yet—too worried the news would make its way back to his father and turn into another round of criticism.
But I don’t have time to worry about that right now. Ashton could be hurt… or worse.
“He’s been fixing up that old barn,” I say quickly. “The one your great-grandfather built.”
Luke scrubs his forehead, confusion written across his face. “Wait… what?”
“He wants to turn it into a weddingvenue—”
“I know,” he cuts in quietly. “He used to talk about that all the time when we were teens.” His voice drops, something wounded flickering across his face. “Why wouldn’t he tell me that?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “That’s probably something you should ask him, man.” I nod toward the door and give his shoulder a gentle nudge. “But we really shouldn’t be wasting time talking right now.”
He blinks a few times, like he’s shaking himself out of it.
“Yeah,” he says, exhaling. “You’re right.”
His fingers tighten around his car keys as he straightens, determination hardening his posture.
“Let’s go find my brother.”
