Shit.
"Call Lola."
It rings out, and I grit my teeth. She is not about to pick up if she thinks I'm a fucking stalker.
"Call Silas."
He picks up after the second ring. "Yeah?"
"What the fuck, man? You heard from her?"
He is quiet for a beat. "Why the panic?"
"Because someone hacked my fucking phone and called her as Alex."
To his credit, he doesn't give me a plethora of told-you-sos. He just says, "She texted for information. Called, too. She's scared. That's what her text said."
"And you didn't text back?" I push out, furious at the entire world.
But the one asshole I'm the lividest at is me.
"You said not to."
"No. I said not to tell her anything but say you're working on it." I want to break something. "Why couldn't you tell her not to be scared? That I'm not as bad as she might think?"
"Look, dickwad, I didn't get you into this situation. You did. You. All by your fucking self...well, you and your dick."
I'm too scared to shoot him down with a comeback. The panic there too, cloying in my mouth. "Someone called her as Alex."
"Look—"
"She doesn't fucking know Alex's voice. She doesn't know it isn't him...me, I mean."
"Shit."
"And I can't get hold of Cade or my sister. Can you text him? And call? I'm driving."
"On it."
He disconnects the call.
She doesn't know Alex's voice. The thought won't stop spinning in my head. She won't know she is being played.
I call her as I slam my foot down on the accelerator and speed back to the beach house.
"Don't be too late. Don't be too late."
In between each call, I try Cade, who also doesn't fucking pick up.
Then I try Lyndall.
No fucking answer there.
Maybe they all went out for ice cream.
An empty, vicious laugh claws at my throat.
But I keep trying.
