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Marco
Alight snow falls as I roll down the Bradfords’ driveway. I’m a little early, so I park in front of the garage and check my phone. I texted with Evangeline last night when I got home, then again before bed. Just reading her words makes me smile all over again. She’s clever and, for a good girl, takes a mean nude selfie of her perfect tits. I shoot off another message as I reach over and make sure her seat is nice and warm.
You up?
If she’s not wearing gloves, a hat, a coat, and a scarf when she walks out of that apartment, I’m going to have to skip class to buy her a few of each. Her new laptop is in the backseat, though she’s told me a few times that she’s fine with the school-issued one. Fuck that. She needs the best. My babydoll has big dreams, and I want to make sure she has what she needs to make them come true.
I look at my phone. She hasn’t responded.
Glancing up at her apartment, I notice that the little flue over the kitchen isn’t smoking like usual. A dark sensation swirls in my stomach.
Opening my door, I walk over to the stairs and bound up to the front door. I knock. And wait. And wait some more. Nothing moves inside. No one’s home. I can feel it.
Turning, I stomp down the stairs and peer at Trent’s house as the snow intensifies, fatter flakes joining the earlier flurry. I pull out my phone.
Babydoll, where are you?
Trent’s Range Rover is gone, and I can see tracks in the faint snow. He left within the last half hour, maybe even fifteen minutes. I try to find Evangeline’s footprints, but there’s not enough snow to tell if she got into his car. Not that it matters. If she’s not here, she’s on her way to school or maybe already there.
Anger rises inside me like a tide, and I jump into my car and do a messy three-point turn, making sure to roll my tires into the Bradford’s perfect landscaping like a total dick. But that’s just the start of what I intend to do if Trent has hurt my girl. There’s no way she’d go with him, not unless he threatened her.
Movement from the house’s side door catches my eye.
It’s Mrs. Bradford waving at me.
I back up and roll my window down. “Where is she?”
“Who?” She smiles, and I can tell she’s spent a long time on her makeup and hair. Her low cut top gives a clear view of the assets she used to land a Bradford wedding ring on her finger, but I don’t have any interest in what she has to offer.
“You know who.” I hold her gaze.
“I don’t know why you’re interested in girls your age. What are you, eighteen?” She licks her too-red lips. “You need a woman who knows her way around a man like you. Someone with experience.”
“Cut the shit. Where’s Evangeline?”
Her fake smile falters and she blinks against the snow, but she doesn’t give up. “Come inside, and we can talk about it. Just you and me.”
“I don’t know what you think this is.” I keep my temper under wraps as best I can. “But if I have to get out of this car, it won’t be to fuck you. It’ll be to wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze until you tell me where my girl is.”
“Sexy.” She blinks.
“Jesus Christ, where is she?” My roar finally gets through to her, and she takes a step back.
Her lips turn into a sad pout. “She’s at school. Because that’s what she is. Just a little girl who doesn’t know how to please a man like--”
I hit the gas, cutting through yet another one of the Bradford flower beds before getting traction on the driveway.
The drive to school is fraught with one thought after another. Did our time together last night scare her? Or worse, did I hurt her? I grip the steering wheel too tight, worry eating away at me as I turn in to the student parking lot. Plenty of kids are still walking into school, but none of them are my Evangeline.
I push through the crowd and into the busy hallway. Girls smile at me as I walk past, but I don’t look their way, not when my heart is pounding and worry trickles down my spine like ice water. If I hurt her, I don’t even fucking know what to do with myself. She is the softest, sweetest thing I’ve ever found, and if I’ve ruined my chance with her--no. I push that thought away and turn down the science hall.
Mrs. Benton’s door is open, so I hurry in, then stop.
“Evangeline?” I find her sitting next to Trent, his lacrosse buddies hemming her in on all sides. My hands fist, and I push through the nearest desks to get to her.
“Stop.” She looks up at me.
I don’t want to, but I obey her command. Hell, if she told me to jump out the fucking window, I’d do it, no questions asked.
