Bile rises and my hands grow cold inside my gloves; a physical wrongness I can’t ignore.
“What’s wrong?” Hayes asks, skating a circle in front of me, concern etched on his face.
“Erin’s gone.”
We’re off the ice in minutes.
When a shirtless Rudy barrels in our direction, phone clutched in his hand, Briar chasing after him with an ice pack and a sling, every nerve in my body fires up.
I listen to the voicemail she left for him.
T-tell me you’re s-safe, G-Griff.
Her voice fractures on the recording, and it hits me harder than any bodycheck I’ve ever taken.
She thinks her brother’s in danger, and I just know in my gut that she’s not anywhere in the stadium. Someone lured her away and used her brother to do it.
Beads of sweat coat my forehead as only one name comes to mind—Clarissa Rose.
No one moves to be interviewed. They aren’t mandatory, but if they were, we’d be facing fines. I’d pay every dollar twice without batting an eyelid to ensure Erin’s safety.
We tear through the locker room, ripping off our gear as fast as humanly possible. Metal clatters. The room reeks of sweat and adrenaline. We’re a storm of panic.
It reminds me of the prank Oliver pulled when he put itching powder in Austin’s jersey before a morning skate.
But this isn’t funny.
“Do you think it’s her mom?” Rudy asks as he tugs a T-shirt over his head.
One word.
No hesitation.
“Yes.”
My stomach flips, and I wonder if this is the other shoe we’ve been waiting for to drop. Aside from her appearance at Bakes by the Lakes, Clarissa Rose hasn’t done anything suspicious. Erin hasn’t seen her since the café.
None of us have.
In theory, her mother hasn’t done anything but show up in town. There’s been no real excuse to worry, but it’s been a gut instinct that something bigger is coming.
And I think that moment is finally here.
Valerie helps get us out of the stadium unnoticed and into cabs. As soon as I said my girl’s name, she went into full-on beast mode, helping us finish up so we could leave.
Hayes, Rudy, and I slide into the first cab. Oliver and Austin take the second. The driver must latch on to the tension because he doesn’t attempt to make small talk.
Rudy heaves like he might be sick, his legs bouncing and eyes focused on the road. I know what he’s hearing because it’s playing on a loop in my head, too.
Erin’s panicked voicemail.
Thank God Rudy insisted Erin download a tracking app when he found out her mom was in town. Without it, we’d be flying blind.
I keep my eyes glued to her location as if the dot might disappear if I blink.
The driver slams on the brakes, screeching to a halt outside Hunter’s Pavilion, and we exit just as Oliver and Austin’s cab pulls up.
“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars if you get us to Hunter’s Pavilion in under ten minutes. Twenty, if you blow through every red light.”
