It’s been almost a day since I spoke to Charlie. That’s long enough, right?
Except he clearly has the same idea, because even as I scroll through my phone to find his number, his name lights up on the screen with an incoming call.
“Hey, there,” I say as I climb into my truck. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Mason.” His voice is raw and breathless, and the single sound of my name makes me squeeze the steering wheel tight.
“What’s wrong?”
There’s a hitching sound over the phone, like he might be crying.
“Charlie. What’s going on?”
“Uh.” He sounds so shaky. “It’s Athena. She’s missing.”
17
Charlie
In the grandscheme of terrible things that I worry about at night when I should be sleeping, the list is actually pretty concise.
—I find my boyfriend in bed with another man.
—I leave my laptop open when someone I respect is visiting and they find the latest round of videos for work on it.
—My dog runs away and I can’t find her.
So far this year, I thought the worst thing that would happen to me was the Gavin incident. That was heartbreaking and embarrassing and sent me into a months-long spiral where I questioned everything I thought I knew about myself.
But I was unprepared for the unmitigated terror that comes when I wake up to discover Athena is not in my apartment.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table when Mason arrives. Vann’s gone over to Bold Brew to grab us a few coffees before we go searching again. I’m trying to stay calm, but the sight of Mason in my doorway is enough to send me back into a panic.
“Oh my God.” I throw myself into his arms. “She’s gone. I don’t know where she is. We’ve been looking all afternoon.”
“It’s okay.” He rubs my back, and I’m so grateful he came. “We’ll find her. How did she get out?”
“She opened the front door and left.” I hiccup on the words.
“She what?”
“I don’t know. I was asleep. You wore me out this weekend, and I needed a nap. And when I woke up, the front door was open and Athena was gone.”
“You don’t lock your front door?” Mason asks.
“Well, how was I to know my dog was some kind of Houdini?” I throw my hands in the air and start pacing in circles. Though now that I’ve asked out loud, I guess I should have followed the clues. There was the humping incident at Mason’s and all the times I thought I’d stashed her in the bathroom when I’d gone out, only to find her wreaking havoc in another room when I got home.
“Okay,” Mason says, calm even as I wear a path in my carpet. “Does she have a chip?”
“Yeah, I already called the microchip company. And the vet’s.”
“No GPS, right?”
“No.” I laugh bitterly. “But you can be sure as shit I’m getting one for her as soon as I get her back.”
If I get her back.
I don’t say the last part, but it must be written on my face, because Mason pulls me back into his arms.
