Blake
The next morning, I knocked lightly on Casey’s door. It was still early, before he normally got up after working late, but I hadn’t heard him come in the night before, like I usually did.
I stood there, a little chilly in my boxers, and waited impatiently after I knocked again, then louder. Somehow, I’d managed to tear myself away from Russell the night before, instead of just having the guy curl up in my arms to fall asleep like he should have. Doing that without Casey, though, didn’t quite seem right, or so Russell and I decided before we reluctantly tore ourselves apart. But I guess I was feeling the same as Russell and wanting to hurry up and move things ahead already.
It was like my mom said—sometimes, I needed to tell Casey what was good for him, in case he didn’t know it yet himself.
With a grunt, I knocked on the door louder, then pushed it open. “Hey, I’m not trying to drag your ass out of bed. Just checking you’re here.”
My words fell on an empty room. Casey’s bed was unmade and empty, and my eyes drifted from a pair of sweatpants, lying on the hardwood floor, to the cooking magazines on his nightstand and his old guitar, set up in the corner.
“Fuck.”
The hairs on the back of my neck went up straight. Casey always came home. Even when he was hooking up with someone, he never spent the night.
I tightened my hands into fists. He wouldn’t dare fucking hook up with someone. We hadn’t talked about being exclusive, and jealous fear jolted through me for a second, but then I shot a puff of air out my nose. I knew my guy, and he just wouldn’t do something that thoughtless, not to me and Russell.
Then what? I stepped out of his room and closed the door, my heart racing. The roads could have been icy. Something bad could have happened at the bar. My mind raced with scenarios, all of them horrifying.
I stormed back to my room, then grabbed my phone from its charger. I tried to call, and then again, but both times, it went straight to voicemail.
Casey probably didn’t realize it, but his location was still shared with me from when we were meeting up in a park a few years ago and couldn’t find each other. I never really thought about it, but I didn’t tell him to turn it off, either.
It just kind of felt like a good safety feature, with him driving home late all the time.
With a grunt, I swiped my phone, and sure enough, his location came up. Panicking, I dragged my eyes across the street names, trying to figure out where in the city he was. After a confused minute, I zoomed out, and then my stomach sank to the floor.
Casey was in West Creek. The one motel outside of our hometown, actually.
I plopped down on the bed, confused. Why the fuck had he gone to West Creek?
I tried to call him again, but still didn’t get an answer.Hey. Where are you at?I texted.
Did something happen with his mom? But then why wouldn’t he tell me?
Metal clanged downstairs. It was Russell, probably getting ready to cook breakfast for me and Casey. With another grunt, I pulled a sweatshirt on with my boxers and jogged down to meet him.
“Frittata?” he asked me. “I found a recipe online, and it looks like we have all the ingredients.”
I froze right there. He had this blue sweater on. It always looked good on him, comfortable and soft, but he’d also put on some blue eyeshadow that must have been new and that pulled all the colors together. With that tight pair of jeans on that I liked, faded and snug on his ass, he looked like a fucking dream.
Damn, I did not want to ruin his morning.
“Casey’s not here,” I said.
Russell blinked. “He’s not? Is he okay? Where is he?”
I scratched the back of my head. “Well, I checked his location on my phone, and it looks like he’s out of town.”
“Out of town?”
“In West Creek.”
Russell sat down at the counter, his brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. He doesn’t even go back home.”
“Not since…” I trailed off, stopping myself from saying it.
Russell’s lips parted. “Dad’s funeral.” He shook his head softly, then looked back to me. “Where in West Creek is he?”
