“Whatever.”
“Anything else bothering ya?”
“Nope.”
I bump his shoulder with mine. “You sure? Not even a petite dark-haired girl?” He doesn’t tell me much about his hookups—they’re usually not around long enough—but it seemed like he was really into Ellie, which I know freaked him out. Even if he won’t admit it.
“Nope. Let’s get some food. I’m starving,” he says, deflecting and jumping off the stage.
I follow him inside, and we throw some sandwiches together and sit on his couch. I check my messages, but there’s nothing from Olivia. The sun is out now, which means the road should be clear soon, and she’ll be free to go home.
My thumbs hover over her name, debating on texting her and asking her to stay. I want to see her when I get home. She made it clear she wasn’t looking for anything serious, and I told her I felt the same, but I can already feel myself becoming addicted to her presence. Constantly checking my phone and itching to see her.
Travis clears his throat, and I glance up. He has one arched brow and a knowing grin on his face. I sigh, tucking my phone away.
“So, how are things going with Olivia?”
“Fine.”
“Seems like you like her a lot.”
I blink at him, not bothering to respond when he already knows.
“Hate to be the one to say I told you so, but…”
I flip him the bird. “You love to say that.”
He laughs but then grows quiet for a minute before asking, “Have you heard from Pacey?”
At the mention of my sister, my stomach knots, and I pushthe sandwich away, no longer hungry. I hadn’t even thought of her the last couple of days. My mind has been so consumed by Olivia.
I grab my phone and instantly dial her number, but after two rings, it kicks to voicemail. I blow out a frustrated breath.
“Still giving you the silent treatment, huh?”
Travis basically lived in my house during high school. His parents never supported his music dreams, so he stayed gone as much as possible. My parents never minded him being there all the time. If anything, they thought of him as another son, and Pacey was like a sister to him too.
“Yeah. I’m fucking sick with worry, dude. She hasn’t responded to a single text or voicemail in months.”
“What if I try to call her?” He pulls out his phone. “I got a new number last year after I lost my phone, remember? She won’t have it programmed.”
I shrug. “Let’s try.” I hold out my phone with her contact info, and he punches it into his phone. I hold my breath as it rings.
And rings.
On the fourth ring, my heart stops.
“Hello?” Pacey’s voice floats through the speaker. It’s quiet, like she just woke up.
Travis looks at me, wide-eyed. We didn’t talk about what we’d do if she answered because I didn’t think she would. How could she answer a strange number when she hasn’t been answering my calls for months?
“Uh, Pacey?” Travis asks.
I stare at him, blood roaring in my ears.
“Who is this?” Pacey says.
“It’s Tra?—”
