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“Of course,” he assures me.
“She’s tiny. She’s a vegetarian, and from what I’ve seen so far, she barely eats. I told her that she would be staying with me till her roommate got to town and that while she was under my roof, she’d eat three meals a day.”
“You want to take care of her,” Buck says like he’s stating a fact, not asking a question.
“I want her to do what I tell her,” I huff. “I told her to send me pictures of her meals, I told her when I text, she replies, when I call, she answers. I told her to be a good girl, and she was. She sent me a picture of her breakfast but nothing since then. It’s four in the fucking morning and I have no idea if she’s okay, if she’s eaten, or if she’s behaving. I need to call her, but I can’t call her because it’s the middle of the fucking night and I’m losing my goddamn mind.”
By the time I’ve finished my tirade, my chest is heaving, and Buck’s eyes look like saucers. “Holy shit, bro, you’ve really fallen for this girl.”
“No. It’s not…” I trail off because, fuck, have I fallen for her? Is that what this is?
“Go home.”
“What?”
“Go home. There’s no point in you being here when you’re like this. So go home, check she’s okay, then get some sleep and be back here by lunchtime. You’d only be sleeping here till then anyway, the rest of us can handle any call-outs we might get. I’ll call you if I need you back before lunch, but I won’t. Go check on your girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” I argue.
“Go home and check on your girl,” Buck orders, daring me to argue again.
“Fuck, thanks, Boss.”
Jumping up from the table, I dump my plate in the sink, shove my bare feet into sneakers, then grab a hoodie from the clean uniform pile that’s waiting to be put away.
“You good to drive?” Buck asks as I reach the exit doors.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
“See you at twelve hundred hours.”
“Thanks, Boss,” I say as I dart out of the door.
5
ETTA
The sound of the front door opening jolts me from sleep, and I bolt upright in bed, my heart racing. Grabbing my cell from the bedside table, I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle the sound of my breaths as I tap the screen and bring my cell to life.
The clock shows four fifteen a.m. Clumsily unplugging my cell, I slide out from beneath the covers and freeze. What do you do when someone breaks into your house? I guess normal people would call 911, but we’re miles away from town. If whoever just came through the front door is here to hurt me, I’d be dead before the cops even got in their car.
Gripping my cell tightly, I drop to my knees, lower myself to my belly, and awkwardly slither beneath the bed. I don’t know the house well enough to think of a better place to hide, and if whoever is here is just trying to rob the place, I’m happy to wait under here until they take whatever they’ve come for.
When I hear the door being closed, I hold my breath at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Suddenly realizing how stupid it is to hide rather than call for help, I tap the screen on my cell and start to type 911 into the screen, but before I can hit dial, the bedroom door flies open and light floods the room.
“Etta!” a familiar-sounding voice shouts.
Shuffling to the end of the bed, I try to peer out while still staying hidden, twisting my neck as I try to see the face of the person who just invaded my bedroom in the middle of the damn night.
“Etta, where the fuck are you?”
“Oz?” I whisper, unsure why Oz would break into his own house.
From my hiding space beneath the bed, I watch as the person moves around the room, opening and closing the closet, before spotting my case pushed against the wall.
“Your stuff’s still here, so where the fuck are you?” he says quietly. “Henrietta Jordan, where the hell are you?” he shouts, and his voice is instantly recognizable. I’ve heard him say my name in my nightmares for years, and there’s no mistaking it now.
“Oz?” I say it louder this time.
