Page 102 of The Song We Lost

I push through the door and blink at the bright lights.

“Hey,” one of the assistants says, startled. “You okay?”

“I need my phone,” I say.

“Um we don’t have your phone, Luke.”

I scrub my hand down my face, feeling agitated.

“Ok, can I use yours? Do you have Bailey’s number?”

They stare at me like I asked for something crazy.

“We don’t… have Bailey Brooks' number, bro,” the assistant says slowly, side-eyeing me.

Heat rises in my chest. Of course they don’t.

I laugh once, harsh and broken.

“Where’s Dave?” I demand.

The assistant points vaguely. “He left like a couple of hours ago.”

My pulse spikes.

He left.

With my phone.

Wait when did I see him last?

Blonde hair, eyes that aren’t gold… Dave….

I stand there swaying slightly, anger and panic mixing together until I can’t tell them apart.

Fine.

I’ll go to his place.

I’ll get it back.

I’ll call her.

I’ll…

I don’t remember deciding to drive.

I don’t even remember where my car was.

I just remember being in the car.

Hands on the wheel.

The dash lights too bright.

My body exhausted, head heavy, the pills and alcohol blending into a slow haze that makes everything feel distant.

The road stretches in front of me.