“Then go.” She closed her notebook and stood up. “And Rowan? Be honest. Not just about the fear, but about the wanting. He needs to hear both.”
I left the office feeling raw and shaky but more certain than I'd been in days. I was going to go to Soren, going to tell him the truth about my damage and my panic and the fact that I wanted him badly enough that it scared the shit out of me. And if he told me to leave, at least I'd know I'd tried.
I stopped at a corner store three blocks from his apartment because some irrational part of my brain insisted I needed to bring a thing. Grabbed his favorite chocolate — the expensive dark kind with sea salt that he'd mentioned once in passing — and a bouquet of flowers that the bored clerk wrapped in brown paper.
I was back at my truck with the items in hand when my phone rang. Unknown number. I almost sent it to voicemail before something in my gut told me not to.
“Hello?”
“Rook, it's Talia.” Her voice was controlled but wrong, tight with stress she was barely containing. “I need you to go check on Soren. Right now.”
My stomach dropped. “What happened?”
“The parents showed up with a lawyer. They're trying to get custody of Poppy back. Served us with court papers yesterday, and Soren — he's been spiraling. Bad. We're all at school or work right now and he's alone at the house, and I have a really bad feeling.”
“Bad how?” But I was already getting into the truck, already starting the engine.
“He's not answering his phone. He's not responding to texts. And after everything with the custody shit and you guys fighting and—” Her voice cracked slightly. “I'm scared, Rook. I think he's in trouble.”
The panic that slammed into me was immediate and visceral. “I'm going there now. Where's the spare key?”
“Under the third flower pot on the left side of the porch. Rook, if he's — if there's—” She stopped, and I could hear her trying to pull herself together. “Just get there. Please.”
“I'm already on my way.” I was pulling out of the parking lot faster than was probably legal. “Call his phone. Keep trying. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Okay. Thank you.”
She hung up, and I threw the phone into the passenger seat. The chocolate and flowers sat next to it, and I was suddenly aware of how stupid they looked. Proof that I'd been on my way to say something real, now just objects mocking me from the passenger seat while my brain tried to process what Talia had just said.
Every red light made me want to scream. Every turn felt like it was taking too long.
I pulled up in front of the house and the first thing I noticed was how quiet everything was. No music, no movement, no signs of life. Just a normal-looking house on a normal street that felt wrong in ways I couldn't articulate.
I grabbed the chocolate and flowers and headed for the porch, hands shaking slightly as I counted flower pots. Third from the left. I lifted it and found the key underneath, small and ordinary and terrifying in what it represented.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside, and the wrongness intensified immediately.
“Soren?” My voice echoed in the quiet. “You here?”
No answer.
I moved through the living room, still holding the chocolate and flowers like an idiot, scanning for signs of him. The space was messy in ways that suggested recent chaos—broken ceramic pieces swept into a corner, a lamp missing from its table, books scattered on the floor. Evidence of the breakdown Talia had mentioned.
“Soren, it's Rook. I'm coming in, okay?”
Still nothing.
I checked the kitchen next. Empty. Then the bathroom. Also empty. The silence was pressing down on me like a physical weight, making it hard to breathe.
His bedroom door was closed, and I stood outside it for a second trying to make myself open it. Trying to prepare for whatever I was about to find.
I turned the handle and pushed the door open, and the world stopped.
Soren was in bed, lying too still, face pale against the pillow. There were pill bottles on the nightstand, some tipped over, and pills scattered on the floor near the bed. Empty alcohol bottles. His phone face-down on the sheets.
He wasn't moving.
“Soren—” His name came out strangled, and I was across the room before I'd consciously decided to move. I dropped the chocolate and flowers on the floor without caring where they landed and grabbed his shoulder. “Soren, baby, wake up. Come on, you need to wake up.”
