My brother watches us, his expression stark and unnerving.
A stab of ice to my gut.
I hug my father tighter as Sullivan turns his back on us and walks to the cars.
He climbs inside one and slams the door.
Smoke billows up from the screeching tires, accompanied by the smell of burning rubber.
Red taillights glare through the night sky.
And my brother races away.
36
JUDE
“Didhe say where he was going?” Mel asks.
“No. Only that he needed air and a walk. Oh god, where is he?” I sink my head into my hands and Mel shuffles closer on my couch, wrapping a supportive arm around my shoulders.
“He’ll be somewhere. He probably went to a bar and got wasted or something, slept it off on a bench somewhere.”
I swallow the bile that’s been present in my throat since I woke up and realized Slade never returned last night. I stayed awake as long as I could waiting for him. But I must have drifted off, because then it was 6 a.m. and his side of the bed was cold.
“That’s not him,” I tell Mel, desperately wishing I was wrong, and her explanation made sense. But this is Slade, I know him. He wouldn’t have said he was coming back and then…
I clasp a hand over my mouth.
He’s disappeared on me before. It makes total sense he would do it again, regardless of whether he swore he wouldn’t leave without a goodbye again. Hehatesgoodbyes. Maybe he really has left.
I screw my eyes shut, a shiver running through me, which Mel does her best to rub away.
“He’ll be back. He came all this way to find you again. Why would he do that if he wasn’t planning on staying? Where would he go? Would it make you feel better if we go and check some places?”
I nod, my brain fumbling as I mentally check through all the places he could be.
There’s only one place I know he’s visited regularly since being back in the city.
“Beaufort Diamonds on Fifth Avenue.” I exhale in a rush. “He said he was going to see his family today. I don’t know anywhere else he could have gone.”
Mel squeezes me. “Then that’s where we’ll start.”
It’s still early as we approach. The store shouldn’t be open yet. But as we get closer, there’s a swarm of people coating the sidewalk directly in front of the giant gold doors.
“What the hell?” Mel gasps as the driver pulls over a few buildings away because he can’t get any closer.
“They got a sale on or something?” the driver asks.
“Or something,” Mel replies, thanking him and settling the fare.
We climb out and approach the crowd. It’s only as we get closer that the cameras stand out.
“It’s the press,” Mel says, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene.
Perfectly coiffed news men and women are talking into their microphones, gesturing to the locked doors behind them. They’re all waiting for something.
Fragments of their sentences filter toward us as we move closer.
