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“What’s going on, Everett? I rasp. “Elliot was acting so strange on the phone. He…He wasn’t like himself at all.”
“I don’t know,” Everett replies weakly. “But something isn't right. He had a complete breakdown in the house…I had to take him outside to cool down.”
“A breakdown? What do you mean?”
“When he couldn't get a hold of you, he started yelling and throwing shit off the walls,” he explains. “He was going out of his mind. I had to get him outside before he tore our parents’ house up.”
Oh my God.
“And then he just left?” I ask. “I’m so confused, Everett. I don’t understand what set him off.”
“Hold up,” Everett says, rubbing a palm against his stubble. “You haven't seen him at all? He wasn’t outside when you got here?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I haven't seen him since I left the house.”
“Where the hell would he have gone? I mean, you have his damn car.”
“I have no idea,” I croak. “He probably took an Uber. I just…I don’t understand what is going on.”
“Let me try to call him,” Everett rushes out. “Maybe he’ll answer me.”
Everett walks outside, shuts the door behind him, and digs his phone out of his pocket. He quickly calls Elliot before pressing the phone to his ear.
After a few short seconds, Everett’s face drops…and I already know that Elliot didn’t answer.
“It went straight to voicemail,” Everett says lowly, hanging his head.
“Shit,” I curse. “Do…Do you think he’s okay? I mean…Do you think he would do anything stupid?
Everett inhales a shaky breath.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” he says, his tone filled with pain. “I just recently started getting close with Elliot. We were basically strangers for years. I wish I could tell you I know where he is or what’s going through his mind…but I don’t.”
Sorrow and regret take over Everett’s blue eyes.
“You know him better than me,” he all but whispers. “Do you have any idea where he might be? Do you think he went home?”
“No,” I reply. “That would be too easy. That’s the first place anyone would look for him, and he knows that.”
“Shit,” Everett exhales. “Honestly, he could be anywhere in Dallas that serves alcohol.”
The second the wordalcoholfalls from Everett's lips, a lightbulb goes off in my head.
Abeat of silence passes before my gaze snaps up to Everett to find him staring back at me through pinched brows.
“I know where he is.”
“Where?” Everett asks
“A bar downtown, Cellar 23,” I clarify. “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but if I had to put money on it, I would bet that he’s there. He’s there almost every day.”
Everett’s eyes flicker between mine as he nods.
“Okay,” he breathes out. “Well, we need to get there as soon as possible. He’s in a shit headspace.”
We?
“What?” I ask.
