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Getting up, I find my phone where he said it was. Nothing from Abigail or any other notifications on my phone. I grab my wallet and check to make sure all my money is still in there. Seeing as I don’t remember what happened, I want to make sure I wasn’t robbed or something. That’s when I notice the condoms I started keeping in there when things started to heat up between Abigail and I are gone. A memory hits like I just got punched in the gut. I remember a dark room and suddenly light. I remember kissing someone that I would have sworn at the time was Abigail, because why the fuck would I ever want to kiss anyone else, but I remember Abigail looking at me with disgust and pain all over her beautiful face standing in a doorway. It’s just flashes, fuzzy ones at that, but I get the distinct impression it wasn’t Abigail I was kissing. Shit.
What the hell did I do?
Chapter 22
Jackson
Thisisn’tfuckinghappening.There’s no way in hell I would be that stupid, no matter how drunk I was.
“Colton,” I say, the panic rising in my voice. “Did you see anyone else in the hallway when you found me?”
“No.” He walks over to where I’m sitting on the bed looking at my wallet, completely dumbfounded and scared shitless that I did something I can’t take back.
“Are you missing something?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I croak out. “Call Julia for me, please. I need to find Abigail.”
I throw my phone on the bed and dial Abigail’s number. I know she won’t pick up if my hazy memory is correct, but I have to try. Straight to voice mail. Shit. I send her a text to have her call me as soon as she gets it, but since her phone is off, I doubt she will anytime soon.
“Julia said she left. She took an early flight back to Philly.” Colton looks at me warily. “Julia also told me the reason she left. She caught you with a bridesmaid in a fucking supply closet.”
I can tell Colton doesn’t know what’s really going on. I remember sitting at the table talking with him and Hank, getting along, sharing stories of misspent youth. But right now, he’s wavering between helping me figure out how to get home the quickest way imaginable, so I can fix whatever this is with Abigail and punching me in the face. Honestly, if what he said is true, then I’ll let him beat the ever-loving shit out of me. Then let Hank get some shots in.
“I swear to you, man, I have no idea what happened. But there’s no way I would have cheated on Abigail, at least not in my right mind. Honestly, Colton, I don’t remember shit after I went to the bathroom.” Except the brief, terrifying flashes I had. I don’t tell Colton about those or the missing condoms. I need his help more than an ass beating right now.
“I have to get to the airport. I have to get home and try to figure out what the hell happened.” I begin throwing everything I can find in my bag.
“You need to take a shower first. You smell like a distillery.” Colton scrunches his nose. “I’ll pack up your shit and see when the next flight leaves.”
My mind is racing with horrendous possibilities from last night. Colton said he found me with my shirt half-undone, but he didn’t say anything about my pants. I’m sure he would have mentioned if my dick was hanging out. Plus, I couldn’t have been gone for that long before Abigail found me. Fuck. I keep seeing the stricken look in her beautiful green eyes.
I quickly get out of the shower and dress in the clothes I brought in with me. When I get back into the room, all my things have been packed, and Colton is on his phone looking at flights.
“The next one leaves in two hours. Plenty of time to get you to the airport and get a ticket.”
“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it.” I grab my sunglasses because the light is still tearing through my skull and grab a couple painkillers, chugging them down with water. My stomach is still in knots, but I’m not sure if that’s the hangover or the fact I still have no clue what happened last night.
Colton drives me to the airport, and thankfully, I can still get a ticket. I try calling Abigail several more times, but it goes straight to voice mail every time. Either she hasn’t touched down yet, or she’s keeping her phone off.
I’m sitting in the first-class lounge waiting for my flight to be called and decide to bite the bullet and call the one person who Abigail may have spoken to.
Kasey answers on the second ring. “Jackson, is everything okay?”
I don’t make it a habit to call my brother’s girlfriend, but she seems like the most likely candidate to have spoken with Abigail at some point between last night and this morning.
“Hey, have you heard from Abigail?” I ask.
“We texted while she was getting ready for her sister’s wedding, but not since then. Why, what’s going on?”
So much, but I’m not going to rehash everything while I feel like shit and still haven’t been able to find my girl.
“We had a misunderstanding, and she took off. Her friend said she got on a plane this morning, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of her. I was hoping she would’ve checked in with you or something.”
My head drops to my hand, and I rub my temples. While the pain relievers are helping my headache, the stress is not.
“Must have been a pretty big misunderstanding for her to fly home by herself.” Her tone is suspicious, and I know she wants more answers, but I don’t have any to give her. We all know how much Abigail hates flying, at least the takeoffs and landings. Goddammit, she really had to have felt the need to get the hell out of town if she’s braving the flight solo.
“Listen, if she calls or texts you, please tell her I’m trying to get a hold of her, and I’m on my way home? Her phone’s been off all morning.” I’m not above begging Kasey if it means Abigail will call me back.
