“Hey.” Oli places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “Let’s go check. No matter what, we don’t leave someone behind, and we certainly don’t let abusers win.”
I limp toward the desk,trying to be mindful of how much pain I’m in. I see a woman dressed in a black security uniform and walk up to her instead. “Hello. I need security.”
She pushes her black glasses up, half her attention on me and the other half looking at the computer. “What can I help you with, sir?”
“My partner is missing. I went up to my room and our door is wide open. Nothing taken. He is missing, though. I want to see the camera footage for our floor and see if anyone?—”
“I’m sorry, sir. You’re going to have to?—”
Oli puts a stack of money down on the desk. “Show him the tapes.” He leans into Andre, whispering, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
She glances down at the money then back to him, then to me. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” She pockets the money then stands. “Right, this way. First, we’re going to the desk and having the receptionist confirm that’s your room. That you’re not spying on other guests.”
“That’s fair.” We follow her to the front-end desk, right on her heels.
“Can you give me some space?” The guard glares back at us. We all take a few healthy steps away from her as she goes to the desk and confirms our identities and IDs with our room numbers. “Right, this way, gentlemen.”
“I’m sorry, do you have a wheelchair?” Oli looks at me. “He needs it.” She looks at me, and I feel nauseous with the pain.
“One moment.” She walks back to the front desk and speaks with a woman before she nods, going around the desk and disappearing. A moment later she returns with a folded wheelchair. She opens it, wheeling it toward me, and I sit, feeling minor relief. Oli extends the footrests so I can put my feet up. “Aright, let’s go.”
We follow her into a room filled with monitors. “Room three zero four, correct?”
“No, two forty-three.” She smirks. “You were testing me, weren’t you?”
She nods, finding a monitor and rewinding the tape on our floor to the time I asked. Everything else melts away as I watch the footage. For a moment nothing is happening. I can see her get a bit impatient.
After a few more minutes, though, I see him. “There!” Clear as fucking day, storming into our room. This must have been when he left the wedding. For a few minutes nothing else happens in the hall.
That’s when I see them both.
Steven’s grimy fucking hands on my man’s neck. It’s what Felix does, though, that breaks my heart. I see it. The hand sign for help behind his back. That fucker took him, and I wasn’t there to stop him. When the hell did he get into that room? “That’s him. Fuck!”
“You’re positive?” And although he asks, Oli saw what I saw. I nod. He fucking followed us here. How did he get into our room? I have so many questions, but all I can focus on is getting him back. I don’t know where to start.
“I need to go back up there. Maybe he left me a note. I don’t know where he used to live.” Maybe something. He wasn’t there long. I don’t know. Felix never told me where he lived. He could be anywhere. Then I remember. “His journal. I need to read his journal.” It didn’t look like he had anything with him. Which means it’s still in there, I hope.
“What are we looking for?”I wheel myself to the bed, looking under it first just because it’s the place he kept it at home. It’s not there.
“Baby-blue journal.”
Andre looks through his bag, pulling things out until he picks up an object. “Ew!” He drops it. “Gross.”
“It’s clean!” I roll my eyes as he kicks the massager away from him. “Probably the tamest thing that’s been in your hands since you got with Oli.”
“He’s got a point, babe.” Oli grins. “Love you,” he says as Andre flips him off.
“Where the fuck is it?” He had it the other day, writing in it while we were outside. I search everywhere. What if Steven has it or threw it away? I’m not even sure how he got in here, but if I had my guess I’d say he climbed over from the balcony on the right side. Not sure how he got into that room, but I wouldn’t have put it past him.
Andre is searching through drawers when he yells, “This?”
“That’s it!” I grab the journal from him, flipping through the pages expecting clues, but what I find breaks my heart. There are trackers and lists. He’s still keeping track of my progress. It looks like he copied over the exact same progress chart from his old one. There are little things like ideas and notes, a sexy bucket list, some cute little doodles he’s done... but what gets me is the little written thoughts on a page called “Brain Dump.”
Grey told me he loves me, and I think I love him. I’m so scared. The last time I told someone I loved them, they changed. What if he does too?—
Atlas came over today. I know he hates me. I want him to like me. I know he’s close with Grey?—
I didn’t know it should be like that. That it could be like that. Every single time I look at him I feel like bursting. I’m so happy and scared someone will take it away?—
