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***
The PI reports to me by Monday. Following up on some leads, he says. I thought he’d have something for me by now, but I’m impatient, that’s all. I have no clue how long it could take the guy to find someone who doesn’t want to be found.
If Xavier isn’t found, I don’t know how I’ll break the bad news to Riddick. Just the thought gets my heart tripping in my chest.
At least I thought to ask for his phone number last time. I text him with my update, and get no reply.
I rub at my chest, staring at my phone, willing it to chime, to give me an indication I’m doing something good, something useful for Riddick. That I’m helping him.
That he’s not upset with me.
It doesn’t fucking matter if he hates your guts, I tell myself. It shouldn’t matter, because you have no feelings for him, just like you have no feelings for Brylee.
But I’m a bad liar, and I feel particularly frayed today, like old fabric, worn and thin and coming apart.
It doesn’t help that Brylee is not around. Where is she? I haven’t seen her since the day she walked out of my office. It’s as if she’s hiding from me.
Or not coming to work at all?
Shut up, Ryan. Be serious.
But as the day advances, and I don’t see her anywhere as I run from meeting to meeting, the worry grows. It’s ridiculous. Fucking nuts.
It’s because of the state I left Riddick in, I tell myself. That’s all. But I can’t stand it. I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t care.
Giving in, I head to her office to set my fears to rest—but she’s not behind her desk. Another girl is sitting at the desk across from hers, typing at her computer.
She looks up. “Can I help you?”
“Brylee.” By now the worry is gripping my chest like a fist, and I force a deep breath into my lungs. They feel crushed. “Where is she?”
“She’s at the Meriter, from what I understand, you know, the hospital, and she—”
I stumble out blindly, and lean against the wall for a long moment. I can’t breathe. Fuck, I can’t. Something happened to her. And here I was all this time, worried about something happening to me.
I really am a selfish bastard.
I walk into my office in a daze, grab my wallet and car keys, and walk back out, not even letting anyone know I’m leaving work.
It’s not until I’m striding toward my car through freezing wind and sleet that I realize I didn’t even think to grab my jacket—and I don’t stop or go back. I can barely feel the cold anyway, adrenaline pumping through my veins, making my heart boom.
Dripping, rainwater running down my face, I enter my car and drive toward the hospital. I’m gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles are white. I know the way, so my thoughts wander—to Brylee, to Riddick, to the way I treated them.
Just… please let her be okay.
***
God, I hate hospitals. I fucking hate them.
Familiar parking lot, familiar entrance, familiar motions as I park and tear out of my car, taking the steps two at a time.
Nurse Ellen at the reception desk opens her mouth to greet me and stops, eyes going round.
“Are you okay?” she asks, and gestures at me.
I glance down at my soaked suit. “Yeah. Listen… I’m looking for Brylee.”
“Brylee?”
