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I shot to my feet. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I bellowed.
Mason stood and moved between us as if I’d lay hands on her. “Candace, I appreciate you looking out for Wyatt, but this is between me and his mother.”
“You are considering letting this woman spend time with your son?” She looked at him incredulously. “Don’t you care about his well-being? She shows up here tonight, still strung out on whatever it is she does, and you’re just okay with it?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I questioned. What was this girl’s problem?
“Go back to your life of drugs and touring. Take her with you,” Candi spat at me.
But as we all looked in the direction Candi’s chin was pointing, we noticed Cee wasn’t there anymore.
“Fuck.” I ran a hand through my hair in frustration.
“Candace, shut up!” Mason yelled. “Where the hell is she?”
“Once again, Mason, someone else will clean up your mess. She’s grieving. Yeah, she’s not herself, but she’s perfectly capable of spending time with Wyatt, and you know it,” I said as I went racing to the door.
“She can be destructive,” he countered.
“Self-destructive. She would never hurt Wyatt. She’s been a mess without him. And now you bring in this girl who makes her feel like Wyatt doesn’t need her anymore. What the actual fuck? She doesn’t need this shit right now.”
“Candace said she showed up high yesterday.”
“Well, Candace was fucking wrong. Things went sideways when Wyatt wanted to see Eli. Instead of letting Cee and Wy be upset together, Candace threw herself in the middle. She’s going to cry for a while. She just spent months watching her boyfriend die. You know how much he meant to her. And to Wyatt.”
“I do.” He nodded. “Shit. I think Candace jumped to some conclusions.”
“You think?”
“I’ll set things straight,” he promised.
“I need to go find her. Fix this.” I stormed past him and out the door, expecting to see Cee sitting in the car, but she wasn’t there.
Neither was the car. “Sonofabitch!” I screamed into the air. I tried calling her, but she sent my call straight to voicemail.
I ordered a ride to bring me back to the hotel, assuming that’s where she went, but when I got to our room, she wasn’t there.
Panic took over.
Me: Where are you?
Me: Kate?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I paced the room for twenty minutes, trying to get her to walk through the door through sheer manifestation. Unsurprisingly, it did not work.
Me: Did she go back there?
Mason: No, she isn’t at the hotel?
I called her again. “Fucking answer me, Kate. You can’t take off and not tell me where you are!” I yelled into her voicemail.
Once again, this woman had me on my damn knees. I did not know where she would go in a city she wasn’t familiar with. For all I knew, she was halfway back to Massachusetts by now. Not knowing was torture. While she had seemed to be marginally better than she had been, she was still not in a good place. I was terrified that being accused of not being good for her child was a hit too many.
Who says that to someone who is grieving, anyway?
I couldn’t report her missing. No one would’ve taken me seriously since she had only been gone for an hour. She was driving a car she owned, so I couldn’t report the car as stolen.
