I need to get up and do something with my day, because otherwise I’m just going to continue to hyper fixate on my performance yesterday.
Nothing sounds better than a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and I’m anxious to see Chip after announcing to the town that we’re official. At least it brought us closer together, being unapologetic like that, because allowing him become so intimate with my body was incredible.
Sure, sometimes it’s still odd to think that the man I unknowingly married can turn into hot chocolate, but in the grand scheme of things, is that really the biggest red flag? I bet you can think of three things so much worse right now. You see? It’s all about perspective.
Right now, I want a perspective of chocolate steam rising up to my face while I sip it and get all tingly.
“Chip?”
Huh, that’s weird. He’s not in his customary place of honor on the counter, ready to warm me up from the inside out.
Maybe he stepped outside to get some fresh air?
I grab the sweater I left on the chair yesterday and wrap it around me, shoving my feet into some shoes before heading to our sweet little porch, fully expecting to find him out there relaxing.
What I actually find is much worse.
Our wicker loveseat has been tipped over, the cushion on it nearly ripped off. The most frightening thing, however, is a small piece of red-orange ceramic resting precariously on the tread of the stairs.
A small, innocuous piece maybe, but it’s him. I know it is.
What the hell could have happened though? I don’t think he would willingly leave me alone here without at least a note, and the mess of our front porch tells a story of struggle.
Determined to get help and ask around, I dart back inside for my wallet and phone, then start the short walk into town.
There are hardly any people out and about at this hour, especially after the hedonistic way the night ended yesterday. Everyone seems to be sleeping in.
In fact, the only businesses I see even open as I get closer are ones that sell some sort of breakfast food— the diner, the bakery, and the coffee shop.
Everyone working the diner assures me they haven’t seen Chip since the party, and it’s the same story at the bakery and the coffee shop. I can tell they feel bad for me, but I’m still pretty new here, without actual friends, and no one seems to want to go out of their way to help a stranger.
Wait, duh. My mom is still in town.
I mean, she’s not exactly from here either, but she at least knows a few people.
Do vampires do things during the day?
Doesn’t matter, I’m using all of my resources.
???
Leave it to a mother to finally take my panic seriously. She knows that I’m not one to jump to conclusions unless it’s the only explanation, and within thirty minutes, we’ve got a whole phone tree going with people asking around.
Luckily with our party the night before, Chip is pretty notorious; I mean, he made me come so hard I’m pretty sure I started speaking in Italian at one point, and I have no prior knowledge of that language.
That’s talent.
Every time our problem reaches a farther corner of Trash Haven, I get a spark of hope that they’ll have some info for me, but by the end of the day, I’m exhausted and convinced that I made him up entirely.
Mom insists on staying at the cabin with me, which I appreciate, because sleeping there without Chip feels like it would be too much to handle.
Not even the town’s law enforcement had any insight, though they filed a report and promised to keep looking. I’ve done everything I possibly can, but it doesn’t feel like enough, and it doesn’t change the fact that my mate is missing.
For a relationship this new, it’s devastating to have already lost him.
I also feel like I’m going into withdrawals. I haven’t gone this long without drinking some of him since we met, and my insides feel like they’re on fire with need.
Sleeping is rough, soothed incrementally only by knowing my mom is sleeping just a room away. I’m trying my best not to hyperventilate, and I know we’ll get to the bottom of this one way or another, but the in between period is not something I’m enjoying dealing with.
