I open our thread and type out a message.
Ash:
Olive. Just tell me you’re okay.
Send.
Another.
Ash:
Please.
Send.
Then I call her.
It rings. And rings. And rings.
No answer.
Straight to voicemail. God, I want a drink right now.
I hang up and try again. The same.
I text her again.
Ash:
Can we talk? I didn’t mean—
Delete. Re-type.
Ash:
I’m sorry. Can we talk?
Send.
Still nothing.
I rake a hand through my hair, the panic starting to build like a pressure valve inside my chest. I can’t sit still. I can’t think. My heart is thudding like I’m back onstage under too-hot lights and the lyrics won’t come.
Where the hell would she go?
I try to think, try to berational, but every instinct in my body points to the same place.
Liam.
She probably went to Liam’s. It makes sense. She lived there before. She probably still has a key. And yeah, they had that fight, but he’s still her brother. He’d take her in. Keep her safe. Keep heraway from me.
When I finally pull up in front of his building, I’m practically vibrating with tension.
I park half-crooked and don’t bother locking the car.
I take the stairs two at a time, past faded door numbers and the smell of someone's takeout. Third floor. Apartment 3B. The one with the scuffed welcome mat and a crooked peephole.
I don’t hesitate.
