Page 83 of Buy Back My Love

She turned and carried JJ inside, and I waited until the door shut behind them before I pulled off.

The whole ride over, I kept picturing that nigga with his arms around Lee. I knew why he grabbed her. I had been standing right there when she tried to get at Hannah, so that wasn’t the part fucking with me. It was how comfortable his ass looked doing it, how quick he stepped in, and how Lee told me she came there with him and was leaving with him too. Friend, my ass.

When I turned onto her street, I was already looking for his truck. It wasn’t in the driveway or parked out front, which eased some of the pressure sitting in my chest.

I pulled in and sat there for a second, staring at the house. Maybe she was inside cooling off. Maybe I had beat them there. Either way, I needed to see for myself. I got out and went straight to the door. As soon as I stepped inside, I knew something was off.

“Lee?” The house stayed quiet.

I shut the door behind me and looked around. “Lee!” When she still didn’t answer, I went through the living room and into the kitchen. Her practice hand was sitting on the island beside an open bottle of top coat. Her coffee cup was in the sink, and the little pouch she bought in Colombia was sitting beside her charger. Her shit was everywhere, but there was no sign of her.

I checked the bedroom and bathroom before heading into the garage. The second I hit the light and saw her car sitting exactly where she always kept it, something in my chest dropped. She had actually listened when I told her to get the fuck out my house before I get there and leave my car too.

I rubbed both hands over my face. “Fuck.”

I ain’t mean for her to really leave. I had been pissed, and seeing that nigga with his hands on her had me talking out the side of my fucking neck. The problem was Lee ain’t know none of that. All she knew was she had just found out I had a whole family behind her back, and instead of fixing any of that shit, I told her to get the fuck out. So she did.

I pulled out my phone and called her. It rang until voicemail picked up, so I hung up and tried again with the same result.

I opened our messages.

Where you at?

Then:

Lee, answer the phone. We need to talk.

A few seconds later, both messages showed as read, but she didn’t reply.

I started typing again.

I’m sorry.

I stared at the words for a few seconds before erasing them. Sorry wasn’t fixing this.

I’m coming to get you.

I sent that instead.

If she wanted to ignore me, cool. I knew somebody who might know where her ass was, so I called Anika.

She picked up after a couple rings, with music and people talking loud as hell in the background.

“Hello?”

“Where Lee at?”

“Shit, I don’t know. I ain’t seen her since this morning.”

I frowned. “She ain’t called you?”

“No. I’m at the hookah lounge. Why?”

I ain’t say nothing.

“JB?”

“What?”