“Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” Jenna’s hand settles lightly on my arm.
I lift my eyes and try to force away my unease long enough to give her a small smile. “It’s probably nothing. Nico was supposed to text me, and he hasn’t. I think I’m gonna head home, uh, you know, just in case.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and I get the sense she’s reading every word Ididn’tsay from whatever expression is on my face. With a soft nod, she says, “I’ll tell everyone you had to take off.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course.” She smiles tightly and adds, “I hope everything’s okay. I mean, with Nico and all.”
“It’s probably fine.”
She nods in agreement and then tilts her head back toward the arcade. “I’m gonna get back.”
As soon as she leaves, I pull out my wallet, drop a ten-dollar bill on the table as my portion of the server’s tip, and then spin around and start jogging through the maze of tables toward the entrance. Outside, the air is warm and humid, the sun still shining as it dips down toward the horizon. I stop for only a few seconds to send Nico another message (im on my way home plz call me!), then I stuff my phone back into my pocket and hurry the rest of the way to my mom’s truck, which is parked near the back of the huge parking lot. A minute later, I’m pulling onto the highway, headed south, my phone sitting on the passenger seat.
I crank up the air conditioner and turn on the radio to distract myself. Still, the thirty-something-minute drive home seems much longer than it is, giving me too much time to imagine all the worst-case scenarios.
They cling to me, burrowing into my thoughts even as I tell myself over and over that he’s fine. He’s probably just hiding out in my room, playing video games or something. That would makemuch more logical sense.
If only my brain was listening to logic right now.
I glance over at my phone just before my house comes into view, expecting to finally see the screen light up with his name and the little Discord icon. But it’s blank. Frowning, I look back up and put my blinker on as I start to slow down to turn onto my street. And my stomach twists into a tight, painful knot.
The lights inside the house are all off.
And the driveway is empty.
And there’s no little silver sedan parked along the curb in front of the house.
And so all of those worst-case scenarios start blasting through my mind again, playing in full-color, HD on repeat.
I park and hop out of the truck, and a few seconds later, I push open the front door to a heavy silence. The living room is empty, the TV is off, and everything’s so still and quiet that it almost feels cold despite the oppressive heat outside. I shut the door behind me and slip my shoes off, and I pause as I glance around again. Nothing is different from when I left earlier, and there’s no sign that Nico was ever home, not even a note sitting on the kitchen table or stuck under one of the magnets on the fridge.
I’m not sure what I expected. His car’s not here, so he must not be here. I’m not sure where he could have possibly gone, though, and really, I can’t see him going anywhere, especially not after the long, stressful week he had.
He’d have come right home. I’m sure of it.
I check my phoneagain, but again, there’s nothing.
And I’m suddenly terrified. Because all of those worst-cases don’t seem so hypothetical anymore. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I turn and jog up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I stop right in front of my bedroom door, my breath catching and my hand hovering just over the door handle.
It was open when I left earlier.
I’m certain of it.
I hadn’t shut the door all the way. And yet, the door’s shut now.
Slowly, I close my hand over the handle and turn the knob, then I push the door inward.
And there he is.
The relief is instant and strong, hitting me like a wave, and I grasp the doorjamb to keep myself steady. Nico’s curled up on the far side of my bed, his back to me, the comforter tugged up to his chin. His shoes and socks are strewn across the floor, like he shucked them off as he came in, and his slacks and work polo lie in a heap in the corner, just next to the dirty laundry hamper.
His cell phone sits on the nightstand, face down. And next to it is a huge pile of cash, the bills crumpled and disorganized.
I suck in a breath as my stomach lurches. He’s got the cash but no car. Something went wrong.
“Nico?” I ask softly, stepping into the room.
