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Devyn doesn’t deserve my misplaced cruelty and bitterness.
She never has.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as Devyn wipes away a tear. “You’re right.”
I clean up and leave the store to Devyn for the second time.
* * *
I watch as the local news runs a story on April. It’s barely thirty seconds, but they mention the café, and it gives me a bit of hope.
Every possible surface of Isleton is plastered with her face. The Isle Times plans to run a story about her in their Sunday edition and advertise the grid search that night.
But it still feels like I’m not doing enough.
My best friend is missing.
It plays on a loop in my brain over and over.
April is the smartest person I know. She’s sensible, practical, and stunning. If there’s ever something I have a question about, I run to her first, because she most likely has the answer. And if she doesn’t, her mother will.
Watching Tammy hold it together while her daughter is missing stabs at my heart. And I know part of the reason she’s being strong is because of me.
I’m doing my best not to fall apart, but it’s hard.
I was a shitty friend to April the last time we spoke.
I was bitter about Valentine’s Day. I was feeling sorry for myself instead of just enjoying the time I had with my friend and appreciating a job most people would love to have.
We bake pastries for a living, and instead of being grateful, I’d been piping buttercream between almond flour cookies with a scowl on my face.
I was insufferable to her for no reason.
That can’t be the last time I see her.
We have to find her.
* * *
I could swear the entire town shows up on Sunday evening to help look for April.
The overwhelming support from strangers makes a lump form in my throat.
Customers I’ve seen once or twice in the café show up outside the store as we close, waiting with flashlights and other search gear to help find her. They give me gentle, sympathetic smiles, and I do my best to not fall apart.
Soon, the area is filled with overwhelming scents of Alpha.
Mixed all together, their aromas range from pine and cedar all the way to smoke and bitters. I’m thankful for my suppressants, because without them, I would feel physically ill.
My inner Omegas is still stored away, unable to come out of her cage.
There is, however, a familiar face that I didn’t expect. He waves at me with a sheepish expression, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
“Hey!” I approach the officer who took my statement and suddenly realize I don’t know his name. “Uh—officer—”
“Ben.” He smiles. “Just Ben.” Without his uniform, he looks like the cute boy next door with his close cropped dark brown hair and slight stubble. There’s a backpack slung over his shoulder, and he’s wearing a simple light grey sweatshirt, black pants, and hiking boots.
“Ben.” I smile back. “Thank you for helping.”
