I picked it up, staring at the hair. It was definitely Reese’s hair.
“What the fuck.”
He’d cut his hair off…?
I dropped the trimmer and shoved my hands in my hair, pulling hard as I stared at the destruction around me. Panic was roiling through my system, and I was terrified something horrible had happened to Reese. That he’d done something to himself.
Where the fuck was he?Where was he?
It was midnight, and he wasn’t here. So where was he?
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called him. It rang and rang and rang, going to voicemail.
I left him a message.
Called him again.
And again.
But he didn’t pick up.
I texted him.
Me:
Where are you??
Call me back please
Reese, please pick up the phone
What happened to the room? Are you okay? Please pick up!
Reese—where the fuck are you?? Are you okay?? Please, even if you’re mad at me, just tell me you’re fucking okay! I’m about to call the fucking cops because it looks like a crime scene in here
That was a lie, but maybe it would spur him into responding.
Tiger Darling:
New phone who dis
…what? What the fuck?
Had someone stolen his phone? Or was he trying to be funny? Because none of this was fucking funny.
Me:
What? That’s not funny, where are you??
Tiger Darling:
Why do u care???????
Okay…so he was mad. I could work with that. But what I couldn’t work with was not knowing where he was or if he was safe.
Me:
Look I know you’re mad but Val was in the hospital and I left my phone at our house. I’m sorry I missed your calls but I’m back now. Please tell me where you are
