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“Are you okay?”
“Is that even a question?”
“Where are you?” The line is muffled, but I can hear Benny confirm something with whom I’m assuming is an officer. I want to pelt him with a multitude of questions because I know he has been working on this himself, giving me bits of info here and there. Our relationship has been strained for a couple of reasons, tonight at the club solidifying that. I’ve been having a difficult time keeping my feelings for his girl at bay and I think he’s catching on. But now is not the time. He needs my support.
“I’m still at the scene,” he mutters.
“Okay, text me exactly where. I’m on my way.” I hang up the phone, preparing myself to see the scene that let the girl my heart wants go missing.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
BENNY
A little less thantwenty-four hours since my girl went missing.
The first twenty-four are the most crucial and we’ve got nothing. Fucking nothing. I have no clue where my girl is or what to do at this point. A part of me doesn’t want to blink, sleep, take a break, nothing. I don’t want to miss a second of life right now. Anything could happen at any moment that leads me to her, and I refuse to miss it.
But it’s been almost a full day without her, and I’m exhausted. I need to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, all I see is the back of her walking away from me outside that club. My voice tells me to move, to go get her, to beg her not to go. But there isn’t shit I can do about it because I didn’t go after her. I let this happen to her when I should’ve been there to protect her. This is all my fault.
My mind has been running with every possibility, everything that needs to be done to optimize our time and the help we have. But that help is dwindling because people have lives they have to get back to. They can’t spend all of their time on a wild goose chase trying to find a girl that isn’t supposed to be found.
I’ve taken a moment of solace in Nox’s bedroom, drowning myself in her scent, in her things, anything to make me feel close to her. I may always be busy, but I can’t remember the last time we’ve gone more than a few hours without a text or a call. This day has been pure agony, allowing the loss of her to thoroughly settle in.
I sit on the edge of her bed and reach over to tug her pillow free from her perfectly made bed along with a stuffed penguin. I smile because it would drive Nox bonkers that I’ve just done this. My girl is a little on the perfectionist side, little notes all around the room confirming that in the way everything is perfectly folded, in the way the colors match, each one of them the right tone. The makeup brushes that rest on her bathroom counter are stacked, their bristles all upright, not a speck of errant makeup in sight and all spaced the exact same width apart. It makes me smile and also makes my chest squeeze. My exhale wheezes from my lungs.
I hug the pillow to my chest and it isn’t until I press my nose to the plushness that the weight of the last day finally hits me. This is the first time I have stopped moving since I drove up on her wrecked bike. I’ve kept busy for every second, unable to let myself think about my new reality, desperate to make this day count.
But my hope is dwindling. Fuck, it’s not dwindling, it’s vanished.
Lennox is gone. We’ve missed our window, and now our chances of actually finding her are significantly less. I scream my frustrations out into the pillow. It muffles the sound and hopefully keeps it from drawing the attention of Lennox’s family. They don’t need to hear my cries. They are all dealing in any way they know how. I’m the one that brought this on them. They don’t need to comfort me. I don’t deserve it, but I’m taking a moment to wrap myself in her, then I’m going to go back to my apartment.
When I’ve had my fill, or have simply exhausted myself, I stand and tuck her pillow beneath the blanket and straighten everything out, placing the little penguin back with its friends. I’ll be damned if I’ll let her come home to a messed up bedroom. With one last look around the room, I make my way toward the door.
The sleeve of the worn leather riding jacket she wore the night I fell in love with her at first glance catches my attention. The jacket is hanging on the back of her door, the sleeve taunting me. All of our big moments have happened with her in that jacket.
Memories flood me, destroy me. No doubt she will—would—wear that when she thinks I’m going to propose to her and if she has her way, she’s going to wear it down the aisle to marry me. I say hell fucking yeah, because that’s my girl. My girl has worn-out clothes she refuses to get rid of because they’re just getting comfortable. She always asks me, “Why would you put in all that work only to throw it away at the best time?”
I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she wears that fucking jacket down that aisle. I swing the door shut and lift the leather off the hook to run my hand over the supple material. So many times over the years I’ve done that as I inhaled her scent mixed with race gas, knowing she was about to get on her bike and live her best life.
I’ve taken that from her.
And when I open my eyes and glimpse the failure in the mirror, my exhaustion and frustration tips the scales. I pull my fist back and let it fly. It sails into the mirror and the glass shatters on impact. Tiny pieces slice my knuckles, but I barely feel it. The warmth of blood trickling over my hand is more noticeable than the pain. I wrap my knuckles up with the lower half of my shirt because if I get a drop on Nox’s white carpet, she’ll have a heart attack. I stagger back a few steps. My knees are shaking. Fuck, my entire body is trembling.
I need to get out of here and get home before I collapse.
A knock sounds, and the door that didn’t latch all the way, opens. Marcus peeks his head through the gap. He scans the room, probably looking for the glass that they definitely heard. When the door pushes some pieces of glass out of the way, Marcus looks down at the evidence and frowns before his eyes lock on my hand cradled in my shirt and the jacket over my shoulder.
“I’m fucking sorry.” I can’t get myself to meet his gaze because I’ve done this man so wrong. How can he even look at me when I couldn’t protect his daughter? “I’m so—Fuck. I’m so goddamn sorry, Marcus. This is all my fault. I will find her. I will get her—I will get her back.”
The collapse is starting. I stumble back. My limbs turn to goo and my knees buckle. Marcus shoves through the door and catches me before I’m halfway to the ground. His arms circle my torso to hold me up.
“I’ve got you, son. I’ve got you.” Giving him all of my weight, I give in to his hold. Dry sobs heave from my chest and my eyes burn, but tears don’t fall. “You are not responsible for this, nor did I ever expect you to take on her safety all by yourself. Do you hear me? This is not on you.” I nod, but his words bring me no comfort.
I let this family down.
“We’regoing to find her. Not just you. You aren’t in this alone. None of us are.” He implores me with his gaze.
“Yes, sir.” The words are weak, useless, but Marcus accepts them.
