I hold out my little finger. “Pinky promise?”
Annie hooks hers around mine. “Pinky promise.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
MYLO
I don’t entirelyprocess what’s happening until the jet reaches cruising altitude.
The intercom dings, and a flight attendant announces, “The captain has deactivated the seatbelt light, and you are now free to move about the cabin.”
Annie was right about putting the car on Christine’s tab, though I’m not about to tell her that.
Christine…
When I think about her, I can’t breathe. This sharp ache lances through my bones, and I crave her scent more than I’ve ever craved nicotine.
Christine, who’s radio silent.
Christine, who’s missing.
I’m just checking on her,I promise myself. It’s going to be like it was at the black sand beach. She’s fine, I’m sure; just fucking off, just being irresponsible, just running from her problems.
I’ll confirm that with my own eyes, give her the tongue-lashing she deserves, then move on with my life knowing she’s safe, at least.
And then… I’ll check myself into a heat center, probably. Annie was also right to give me a kick in the pants—another thing I’ll never admit to her. It’s not like me to go down without a fight. It’ll be harder to hide my designation now, but not impossible.
Rehab’s a pretty good cover story. A drug problem could explain random disappearances, health issues, and erratic behavior. Eddie will be pissed—even more pissed than he is now after me hemming and hawing for a week—but it’s par for the course in Hollywood. Haley will be sympathetic, and I’ll do my absolute best to be an excellent coworker to her.
As soon as I’m done checking on Christine, I’ll head to training, and everything will be back on track.
Christine and I can respect each other from afar; her getting Haley and me this solo movie is an olive branch I’m willing to accept. It’s huge for my career, and I’ll always be grateful to her for that and for keeping my secret.
As for if we’ll ever work with each other again…
The base of my neck aches. I scrub it with my palm and shift in my seat.
Working together again doesn’t seem wise.
I put in my headphones and blast my favorite workout music, keeping my mind as empty as possible for the rest of the flight.
When the plane touches down, I check my messages from Haley. She still hasn’t heard from Christine.
Haley and I confirmed we have the same number saved for her, and I know mine’s worked before. I bury my previous messages with Christine under a carefully worded,Hey,the crew’s worried about you, just wanted to check intype message.
After deplaning, I avoid the places unbonded alphas tend to gather at the airport—expensive bars, credit card lounges—and I’ll figure out what to do about my suppressants later.
Haley is waiting for me at arrivals. She looks worried.
“Still no word?” I ask, following Haley out to the parking garage.
She shakes her head. “Her house was totally quiet. I may have even staked it out for, like, a whole day…”
“And Lana?”
“Keeping it quiet for now.” Haley chews on her lip.
