I’ve admired Addy ever since a young age. There’s never been a single thing about that girl that didn’t make me want her, dream of her. She was—and still is—the first thing I wanted to see when I got up, and the last thing I thought about before going to bed. Her disappearance only fueled those thoughts, and I became consumed with the need to find her, to bring her home. I’d give my left foot if I could hold her in my arms again and never let her go. I loved Addy. I still love her, and my heart cracks with tiny fissures knowing we weren’t able to help her.
Making my way from my room to the main floor, I glance at the guys’ doors. Kade and Ry seem to be up as their doors sit ajar, but Zane, you can still hear snoring even through the thick wood and drywall. He had a match last night, so no doubt he’ll be out for a good portion of the day. Only surfacing for dinner when the allure of food is too strong to ignore any longer. He says it’s his body's way of recuperating after being so physical, but I think he just enjoys another day passing without feeling the pain of loss.
As I hit the kitchen and head for the coffee, Ry gives me a brief nod from the island counter. None of us are morning people, and with what we all chose to do for work, it’s nice that we can get away with sleeping in all the time. Which begs the question as to why the fuck he’s awake right now—and looking hella good in that suit.
“Morning,” I mumble.
“Mmmm,” he responds, spooning another bite of cereal into his mouth.
“The fuck you doin’ up at this time?”
“Meeting with a new agent, you?” His brow raises, causing little creases in his forehead that my eyes instantly fixate on.
“Work orders and a client meeting,” I start as I sip from my coffee and lean against the counter's edge. “I think I’m gonna hit the beach after, clear my head a little.”
Ry nods still holding my gaze, knowing exactly what I’m talking about without me actually saying the painful phrase aloud.
Throughout the years all of us have learned each other's tells and coping methods. Which ways work and what triggers the influx of negative thoughts surrounding our missing girl. We may not outwardly talk to each other about, like… feelings and shit, but sometimes no words are needed. We already know if it’s a bad mood, it’s usually in regards toher.
”Me too, brother. It’s getting close.” His eyes move down, staring at the countertop like it personally offended him. Clenched jaw and tight knuckles, his hands aimlessly move his spoon around the bowl of remaining milk.
Rounding the island, I sidle up beside him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and leaning my head against his. He visibly relaxes, slumping slightly on the stool as his head slowly leans into me more. The spoon stills, clanging against the side of the bowl as Ry’s hands move to hold onto my forearm.
The anniversary of her disappearance is coming up in just a few short days. A time which hits us all extra hard. Our minds get taken over with the images of her house, the police, the crime scene people, and of course, the terror and anguish splayed across all of our faces.We never got to say goodbye.We don’t know what happened to her or if she’s even alive after all this time. What happened to her parents? These thoughts lurk in our heads, hanging around like party guests who never got the hint it was time to leave.
Looking at the watch on my wrist, I realize I’m running behind, and as much as I would rather stay here and comfort Ry, I’ve got a business to run. Giving him a soft tap on his shoulder, I lift my head as he nods his own. His hand moves to lay over mine, squeezing gently as a goodbye, before I’m walking away. My hand grabs for the keys hanging by the front door, and as I head for our oversized garage,I shoot one last lingering look to the kitchen. Watching as one of my best friends sinks back into his head, staring yet again at the counter.
The day Texas sat in our rear-view mirrors, we knew we wanted to stay together as a unit. Our bond had grown exponentially after losing Addy and it has only gotten stronger throughout our search for her. There has never been a moment where we didn’t want to stick together.
We bought some land and constructed our own place for years before moving in. It sits just on the outskirts of the city, nestled nicely into a grove of trees for privacy. Six bedrooms and seven and a half baths, it’s not a small place by any means of the word, but with the income we all bring in it was easy enough to afford.
Hell, just from what Zane and Ry make per fight, they could’ve bought it all on their own.
We’ve been living here for eight years now and it’s a decent life. We want for nothing and still have funds left over to donate to the local charities and the city itself. We built this house from the ground up so that we could customize it to our own specifications. Which also means it has absolutely everything we could ever need.
There’s a large gym that takes up most of the basement, for Z and Ry. A soundproofed computer room, loaded with top of the line electronics, for Kade to work out of. As well as an over-sized garage and single work bay for me. All of our bedrooms are huge, able to fit a California king mattress and multiple couches, and each have an attached bath. The kitchen is high end, the living room cozy but spacious. From the outside, we’re doing well. Money, fame, prestige. Things that some strive for all their lives and can never find, but none of it matters. Not to us. We would gladly give it all up in exchange for her. To have her here, safe.
I managed to make it to the cafe fifteen minutes early for my meeting, which is good because my head is not really in it at the moment. I’m meeting with one of the city's elites. A high baller who wants to talk to me about customizing his car to add some “younger flare.” Whatever the hell that means. I’ve looked at thisrequest order seven or eight times now, but I still can’t figure out what he wants done.
As I futilely attempt a ninth pass through, he walks in and takes the seat across from me. I’ve got quite the reputation among the city's citizens. Most know me by name or business, but a few socialites that float around when me and the guys attend charity events, know my face. Like this fool, who I’m only now just realizing—as he asks the waitress for coffee—I’ve seen at said gatherings.
Our meeting lasts about an hour, to which we finally come to an understanding. Sadly, most of the time has been spent explaining why I could not physically put a hot tub in the floor of his ‘86 Camaro. We did, however, agree on new luxury leather seats, an amped up sound system, and LED lights throughout the interior. This is why I make the money I do, rich folks with deep pockets who want to feel young again. Ready to drop massive dollar amounts on ridiculous shit.
After parting ways, I take a few moments to re-collect my thoughts. An hour of arguments now over, I just need to remind myself that most of the time, I enjoy my job. Where’s Zane when you need him? He’s the personable one, the talker, the extrovert. He smiles and people are drawn to him like a magnet, whereas when I smile, you’d think there was grass stuck between my teeth.
Pushing my way out the door, a crowd of people have gathered on the beach. Bodies are standing everywhere, murmuring and pointing. The group gets larger with every passing minute and begins to push its way onto the boardwalk. The excessive and overly excited beach-goers make it harder to navigate my way back to my car. I’m not small but that doesn’t stop me getting shoved in every direction like a pinball.
A spot opens, and as I try and squeeze myself through the cackling teenagers, someone steps back, shoving me forcefully to the ground as they trip over my tumbling body. My file folder flies out of my hands, the papers scattering across the sand and concrete in a flurry. Every note and detail getting covered in dirt or being stepped on and crumpled. One sheet continues to evade me, as I crawl on my hands and knees after it. When I’m finally able to smack my meaty palm on top of the piece of getaway paper, I quickly stand to find I’m near the front of the grouping.
Great, now I’m never going to make it back to my car.
My gaze roams over the scene, taking in the two males locked in a fist fight, and my eyes roll. How shocking, two burly dudes who, more than likely, looked at each other the wrong way, beefing it out to show who’s got the bigger dick.Pathetic.
I’m about to turn, file clutched firmly to my side, when the reflection of the sun off of something across the way burns my retinas. As I blink and shield my face, trying to ascertain what exactly is trying to blind me, my heart drops.
Beyond the fight, watching as the two men pulverize the crap out of each other, is a woman. Striking green eyes, focused on the brawl and ink black hair fanning out from the hood on her head. A telling smile curls at her lips as she stares ahead of her. A calculated pleasure on her face when the blood starts to fly. Shoulders relaxed, hands in her pockets, and still I know that person anywhere.
Addison.
