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But he’s mad at me. Obviously, he’s mad at me. Hurt. Crushed. And I don’t blame him for that. I really don’t.
I just want to know he’s doing alright.
Okay, maybe that’s not all I want to know. I miss him like crazy. I missus. I shouldn’t have pushed him away. I shouldn’t have shut him out.
I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.
My chest aches every time I think about him, which is frequently and often, and I have to chase him out of my dreams every night. It’s almost summer now, the weeks ticking by, just like that stupid clock in my kitchen, but the chill of winter remains deep in my bones, so deep it feels like I’m never going to be warm ever again.
I don’t know what else to do but give him time.
Time and space to figure things out. Time to miss me, like I miss him.
All I can do is wait. And hope.
The kettle finally boils, and I pour myself a late-night cup of chamomile tea right as my phone vibrates on the kitchen counter beside me.
Setting the kettle back down on the stove again, I scan the message on the screen.
Reed: I need to talk to you.
Well, that’s strange. What could Reed Devlin possibly need to talk to me about? I quickly shoot him back a reply.
Me: Is everything alright?
Reed: I don’t know. Maybe? No. Not really.
Me: What’s wrong?
When several seconds pass by, and Reed doesn’t text me back, I figure he’s grown bored with the conversation and found someone else to talk to.
I’m about to grab a cookie to have with my tea when my phone pings again with another message.
Reed: Kael’s missing .
This stops me dead in my tracks. Every cell in my body jumps into panic mode. Missing? My heart is suddenly racing with fear, and my skin is covered in a cold sweat.
Me: Missing? What are you talking about?
Reed: He didn’t come to rehearsals this morning, and he didn’t show up at the studio this afternoon. He’s not at his place. I’m starting to worry. Have you spoken to him?
I rub my fingers across my mouth, staring at the screen for a few seconds.Missing?Oh, god, Kael. What’s going on? Reading his name revives the pain of not seeing him every day, and I’m suddenly stricken with fear that he’s hurt or sick. Or worse still, he’s in real trouble and doesn’t know how to get himself out of it.
Letting out a long sigh, I send back a quick reply.
Me: Have you checked with the others?
Reed: Yes. No one knows where he is. I went to his apartment but he’s not there. Thought you might have spoken to him?
Me: No, I haven’t. He’s not answering my calls.
Reed: Shit.
Me: Please tell me he hasn’t been drinking.
Reed: Not that I’ve seen. He’s been at rehearsals every day until today. He hasn’t missed a single media engagement. He goes straight home afterward.
Me: That’s promising.
