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That made sense. Caleb had woken him up during the night a few times this week. “Yeah. You don’t think that’s too stalkerish?”
“No, I don’t. Because if he’s not over there sleeping and we can’t reach him, then I’m a little worried.”
Shit.
“Me too,” Brenna whispered. “I was super worried at first, but then I kinda talked myself into believing he’s just avoiding me. Now you have me anxious again.”
“He’s not avoiding you, but there isn’t any reason to freak out yet. Drive over and check on him. Then call me back.”
“Crap.” Her heart rate sped up. “Now I am freaking out a bit.” She shoved her feet into the closest flip-flops as she talked and grabbed her purse. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
“Bye, hon. Good luck.” Brooke ended the call.
Brenna ran out of her house. As she jogged toward the car, her sandal caught on a crack in the driveway, causing her to stumble forward and nearly eat the ground. “Shit!” Somehow, she managed to stay on her feet, but she scraped the skin off her big toe. It hurt like hell, but she shoved the discomfort away.
Due to her lead foot, the drive to Lock’s took five minutes less than usual. As soon as she saw his car in the driveway, she felt a massive wave of relief, but it lasted two seconds. The garage sat wide open without his motorcycle anywhere in sight. He’d taken the bike as was the plan.
Oh God, did he get in an accident on the way to her house?
She sprinted out of the car and up to the front door. “Lock!” she screamed as she pounded the door with the force of an entire SWAT team while also ringing the bell repeatedly. “You in there?” If he’d fallen asleep, this would wake him for sure. The man slept lightly, a gift of fatherhood he’d told her. “Lock!” She continued to beat the side of her fist against the wooden door while hitting the bell.
Nothing.
Seconds ticked by like hours. The silence had her straining her ear for any sound she could pick up. Noises registered from all around.
A cicada.
The hum of an HVAC.
A bird calling from somewhere down the block.
But not so much as a peep from inside Lock’s house. “Forgive me for this,” she muttered as she tried the handle. It didn’t budge.
The garage. It had been open. She raced down the porch steps and into the garage, where she grabbed the doorknob leading into the house.
Locked.
“Dammit!” she shouted as she shook the doorknob so hard she worried it’d fall off the hinges. Maybe she should break it down. Was that going too far?
Brooke. She should call Brooke.
Her breathing bordered on hyperventilation as she fumbled with the phone, pressing on the last name called. Brooke answered before the phone even rang in her ear. “Find him?”
“No. His bike isn’t here. But the garage is open, which isn’t like him. God, Brooke, do you think something happened?”
“Don’t panic. I’m getting Curly to call the guys and have them search places he likes to go.”
“Places,” she said as her heart sank. “Like bars or… drug dens?” Was that even a thing? Where did someone hang out when they had a drug problem? And what the hell could have happened to send him back there?
“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Brenna. He was doing great. The only reason he’d gotten in trouble was because of the massive amount of shit life dumped on him at once. He’s not in that place anymore.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach as she stared out of the garage and across the lawn.
Where are you?
Her vision blurred as she gazed into the distance. She swiped at a leaky eye with an annoyed huff. Crying wouldn’t help anything, but she couldn’t stem the rush of fear and despair.
“You still there, Bren?”
