Page 80 of Only Be Mine

“He’s gone, Amy.”

“Who’s gone? Cate, where’s John?”

“He’s gone. I can’t find him.”

“I’m coming over.”

I paced while I waited. Checked the front door. The back. Looked out the windows even though I knew what I’d see - rain, darkness, and nothing else.

Seth arrived first. Then Amy and Jim, with Trevor.

They filled the house with sound - boots on tile, voices overlapping, questions firing too quickly for me to answer.

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Could he have gone back to the bar?”

I shook my head over and over, my answers dissolving into each other.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Trevor stayed close, his hand steady at my back, grounding me without trapping me. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that until I leaned into it.

Someone suggested calling the police.

I did.

My voice trembled as I explained, stumbling through timelines and half-facts and feelings that didn’t translate into anything official.

The dispatcher was calm. Polite.

Unmoved.

“Ma’am, how long has he been missing?”

“I don’t know exactly,” I said. “Four hours. Maybe five.”

“I understand you’re worried,” she said, and I hated how practiced the words sounded. “But adults are allowed to be out of contact. We typically require twenty-four hours before filing a missing persons report.”

“Twenty-four hours?” My breath hitched. “But he’s never…”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If there’s no sign of foul play…”

“There is,” I said. “I can feel it.”

There was a pause on the line. Then, gently, “If anything changes, call us back.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone slowly, my arms feeling too heavy to hold it anymore.

The house felt different now.

Not empty, but waiting.

Time stopped behaving normally.