Then, just after five, Hudson calls.
“Hey,” I answer, trying to sound normal.
“Hey, man. You talked to Liv today?”
My heart stutters. “Uh, no. I left her a voicemail this morning. Why?”
He hesitates. Traffic rumbles in the background, his blinker ticking.
“Hudson.” I straighten in my chair. “What’s going on?”
“Nothin’,” he says too quickly. “I’m coming over tonight.”
“You are?”
“Yeah. Boys’ night.”
That earns a weak laugh from me. “Since when do we plan boys’ nights? You usually just show up with beer and ruin my kitchen.”
“Guess I’m evolving.” His tone is light, but there’s something underneath it—a strain that doesn’t belong there.
“Hudson.”
“Relax,” he says. “I’ll bring food. We’ll hang out. Six work for you?”
“Sure,” I say slowly, though my stomach’s already in knots. “Yeah. Six’s fine.”
“Good. See you then.”
He hangs up before I can ask anything else.
***
By the time I pull into the driveway, the last of the daylight has thinned to a bruised gray, that hour between evening and night. All I want to do is go inside and curl up into my bed with Liv and pray that everything will be fine.
As soon as I’m inside, something doesn’t feel right. The air is too still. Then Nick Fury comes from around the corner, his meow echoing in the apartment.
“Hey, buddy, where’s Mommy? Is she sleeping?” I ask even though I know he can’t answer. He just curls around my feet, his tail whipping. “You want your dinner, huh?” Another meow, and I take the hint, dropping my keys on the side and heading to the kitchen to make his dinner.
“Liv?” I call out, wondering if she’s in her room, but the sound of her name falls flat, swallowed by the walls. After I’ve fed the Fury kitty, I walk down the hall to see her bedroom door half open, the hinges creaking when I push it wider. I swallow hard at the sight before me. The bed’s stripped. The dresser drawers open and empty. Her suitcase is gone, and her planner isn’t on the wall anymore.
My lungs struggle to suck air in, but I manage to fumble my phone from my back pocket and call her. Once, twice. Straight to voicemail again. “Hey, it’s me,” I say, sweat forming along my hairline. “You’re not home and I… I’m worried, please call me,Liv.” My voice catches, and I hate how it sounds. There’s too much of what I shouldn’t have waited to say.
I hang up but don’t move, just stare at the phone until the screen goes dark and my own reflection stares back—tired eyes, clenched jaw, a man who thought he was building something solid when really, he’d been standing on sand.
Then a knock at my door startles me. Rushing over, I pull it open to see my best friend.
“Man, you look like hell,” he says, stepping inside.
“She left.” My shoulders slump.
“I know.”
My head lifts, pulse hammering, all the blood rushing to the surface of my skin. “What do you mean youknow?”
“Let’s go in,” he says, walking into the kitchen and helping himself to my fridge. I follow him, nipping at his heels, waiting for him to explain. “Liv moved into her campus apartment today.”
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to keep some semblance of even keel here, but my nerves feel like a thread fraying fast. “What? Why? How?”
