Our Song

Friday

He remembers “Our Song.” Me? I remember being curled up in a ball on a bed, trying to make sure my sobs were silent so my roommate, Buffy, didn’t hear me as I listened to “Hate Me” by Blue October on repeat.

Freshman year …

One night, Buffy left her phone on the desk when she went to meet her boyfriend for a quick goodnight “snog.” I saw my name on one of the screens that popped up while I was doing reading for my first class the next day. I looked at my phone, thinking I’d missed something in the group chat, but I hadn’t. No big deal. I continued with my reading until the damn thing didn’t stop chiming off, and my name and Leland’s popped up one too many times.

Buffy

Hey there, Long Horn Elite, I have some tea.

Half a dozen responses came in, telling her to spill it.

Buffy

Need promises that it doesn’t leave this group.

They all promised.

Buffy

Our newest wanna bee isn’t sick with a tummy bug; she’s 100% knocked up.

All the members of the “Long Horn Elite” chimed in, wanting to know how she knew.

Buffy

She’s two weeks late.

Aside from her knowing my cycle being disturbing as fuck, and the fact it was true, what followed made me physically ill. I mean, it was probably the fact I was pregnant that made me throw up, but the things these bitches said were brutal.

I broke up with Leland on Thanksgiving because I was not going to end up being the bitch at home, raising children and allowing him to become the man who resented me for it.

The breakup … awful. I was hurting someone who was the best person—aside from Mom—who I had ever met. He was my best friend. We had promised each other that we would never be mean to one another, and if we did, we’d make nice—in a different way than we had previously, of course. Hell, even our parents thought what we were doing was mature and the right thing for each other.

I believed I knew my date of conception—Halloween. He’d come up and stayed three nights and insisted we attend the parties that I would go to if he weren’t here. We wore three different couples’ costumes for the three different parties that we’d be attending. My “friends” raved about how they envied how close we were. We were “goals.” They all wanted a baseball player of their own. I made damn sure they knew he wasn’t an option. Leland Locke was mine, and I was his.

I loved him so much that I never wanted him to resent me, so I had to let him go.

What I didn’t want to let go of was our baby.

I did the math, and the longest I could wait to have an abortion was January 26th.

I returned from winter break with an appointment already made for the following week. But I didn’t have to wait that long. On January 18th, it all came to a painful end while I lay in my lofted bed, curled into a ball.

I called the clinic the next day, and they wanted me to come in. After bagging up my linens and the blood-soaked mattress topper, tossing them, I drove to the clinic, where they did an exam. What I endured after, I can’t even think about, but it solidified that I’d done right by Leland Locke because he was going to be an amazing father one day. I wanted that for him.

That night, Buffy left her phone unattended for her goodnight snog, and I didn’t hesitate to snoop. She’d told the Long Horn Elite that even his baby didn’t want to stay with me. And the twats picked actual dates for when he’d publicly post with the girls that they knew he’d been fucking this whole time.

The nighttime crying stopped, and I made the choice never to listen to that song again. Then the physical and emotional pain turned to numbness. It was Valentine’s Day when Leland was tagged in a post at a fundraiser with his first model draped on his arm. It was Valentine’s Day evening when Madeline DeMond won the bet and pooled money. And it was February 15th when I turned to the boyfriend of the biggest twat in my so-called friend group, Buffy. Didn’t even have to fuck him; just batted my eyes, and he dumped her ass. After that, living with her was obviously intolerable, so I packed my shit and moved into Billy Jacob’s, my bi-curious best friend, room for the rest of the semester and played cock tease to Buffy’s ex, Connor Doyle, for the whole damn time. The rest of the semester, I went down that entire list of the Longhorn Elites and fucked up their perfect little lives in some way.

Zero regrets.

He remembers “Our Song,” and I totally forgot about it.

Marks

Axel’s there. Get some sleep. Meet at eight-thirty at Wags.

I close my laptop, set it down, stand, and then stretch as I watch Cora sleep, allowing myself to wonder what my child would look like today. I can only imagine what it has been like for Chloe.

I feel like a fool that she was under our nose this whole time—well, sort of. She’s listed as a student, so I didn’t consider it, which will never happen again. I am elated that we’ve found her and that she’s safe.

But now, having dug into her social media, I see how easily it would have been for someone to manipulate her. She’s sweet and trusting, which is beautiful and sad, so fucking sad that we have to train ourselves and others to be aware that scum like this is out there, build that wall, throw on armor, guard ourselves and our hearts. Gone are the days when “it takes a village” applies. The borders are no more. Gone are the days when women could be women; God forbid you to appear soft and sweet. Femininity makes you vulnerable.

I suppose it’s a good thing I can’t have a child. I’d be sleeping under their beds, in their classrooms, and in the bushes when they went to a sleepover. Anyone who looked at them I’d be doing background checks on. I would never sleep.

* * *

Cora and I drag ass into Wags and head into CeCe’s office, where CeCe and Marks are waiting for us.

Cora steps back and into me when she sees Marks.

“Marks is my partner,” I explain.

“In the PI business?” Cora bobs her head up and down.

“Security,” I correct with a gentle smile.

Marks clears his throat as he pushes off the desk. “I’ll give you ladies some time. I’ll be out back.” And he passes us, walking right out the door.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” CeCe asks, looking like she didn’t get a wink herself.

“Yeah,” Cora yawns.

CeCe and I both react the way we all do when someone yawns and do the same.

I try to shake it away and fail. “She will tonight.”

“Doc Shaw doesn’t have to put me up. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s CeCe, and I want you to stay—at least until they find him.”

“Find him?” Cora asks, confused.

CeCe’s eyes swing to me, all but screaming help.

“I want to find out his real name and see if he has a criminal history.” I nod toward the door. “I’m going to go talk to Marks. You two try not to worry about all this so you can take care of your clients. I’ll take Elle.”

“She’s good here.” CeCe smiles down at Roman Hart’s dog.

When I walk through the open door, Marks has two sawhorses with a piece of wood lying over them and is wiping down one of the two chairs he found here.

I sit down and unpack my tablet. “Cora’s mother passed away a while ago, and her father is on a romantic getaway with a woman Cora doesn’t like. They left yesterday. Coincidence? Even if it is, I still think he’s working with someone, and it could be her. I’m gonna dig.”

“Think we should send someone on a tropical vacation?”

I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

For the next few hours, we will subcontract more and more men and women to prepare for the worst while still hoping for the best.

* * *

“Your house is huge,” Cora says, looking out the window as we pull into the driveway.

“We’re filling it up by the day.” I laugh.

“Still have two more bedrooms upstairs. The upstairs reading room could also be a bedroom.”

Cora gasps. “You have a library?”

“I can’t call it that—I don’t have enough books—but that was the plan.”

“When do you have time to read with all the true crime documentaries you consume?” I ask.

“Don’t hate on my bedtime stories.”

Cora sighs. “I used to watch them to make my little world seem less scary. I’m not sure I’ll be able to now after this has happened.”

CeCe and I look at each other, but just for a second.

Cora catches on immediately. “What? Is he a serial killer? Is he?—”

“Let’s get inside, and we’ll discuss everything, okay?” CeCe forces a smile.

“You’re scaring me,” she whispers into the pup’s fur.

I unbuckle and open the door. “It’s okay to be scared, but the more you know, the more light that’s shone on this situation, the less scary it might be.”

Yes, I lied, but one step at a time. We’re about to navigate through an emotional landmine.

Inside, she looks around, smiling. “Wow, even bigger inside.”

“Let’s do a quick tour.” CeCe bends down and takes Elle’s harness off. “You, too. You haven’t been past the kitchen and dining room.”

We move through the downstairs, and Cora is as enamored with the house as I am.

“Marks moved his things down here. All girls upstairs.” I nod toward the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, CeCe nods left.“My bedroom is on the left, the bathroom is right next to it, and the other four bedrooms are this way. Gwen’s room, then the next one is open, and the next one after that is, too. Then there is my one-day library; it has a daybed.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“You should have seen it when she found it.” I shake my head. “I saw pictures and didn’t see it becoming this.”

“Needed all the love, from a new roof to the floor.”

“I know you make good money, being a vet, but you just graduated, and you own Wags and a house like this, all on your own?” Cora asks, looking into each room.

“The house was a foreclosure and needed so much work that no one would touch it. My sister’s husband and his family own a construction company. Without him doing all the work, I couldn’t have afforded it. I lucked out on Wags. The Underwoods were friends with one of my professors, and it was either sell or close down. Again, Chloe and Danny helped me come up with the money and figure it out. I owe them so much.”

I interject, “She’s full of shit. She’s paid them back every dime. Which they didn’t want, but this one?—”

“It’s a pride thing; I get it.” Cora smiles at me. “I’m going to figure out how to make vet school work.”

“I know you will.”

“That would have made my mom proud.”

“Would have?” I ask.

“She died in a car accident four years ago.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Your mom passed away when you were really young, right?” Cora asks her.

CeCe looks a bit taken aback.

“That’s my bad. I let that slip last night over bad late-night TV and shitty pizza,” I admit.

* * *

CeCe left nothing out when she told Cora about William Center, Chloe, and the child she had. They cried—hell, I cried—and then they FaceTimed Chloe, at Cora’s request. It was another beautiful healing moment.

We all watched the Jags game and ate takeout. Then they went to bed, and Marks and I went back to work, digging.

The next day, Wags’ system was all set up, and Marks and I would be working right out back where we had eyes on them.

We learned that Cora’s father, an electrician who made a good living, was now broke, and this included the money they collected from a life insurance policy cashed in after Cora’s mother’s death. Money that had sat, gaining a decent interest. Our assumption, it was supposed to be used for Cora’s education. When we found out that she had withdrawn from Rutgers and was now attending community college, it became even more apparent. I sent that information along to Danny and Chloe, knowing damn well what she would do if given the opportunity.

Over the next six days, we were at a standstill. William Center was a ghost; even his dating app profile had been deleted. There was nothing proving he was still in Trenton, yet nothing pointed us in any other direction. Danny, Chloe, and Aggie were safe, and so was Danny’s family, but I was still having nightmares that I wasn’t there when someone needed me. It wasn’t Marks in them now; it was Chloe. Marks thinks it’s because she insisted we stay here, adamant that Center is nothing if not patient when it comes to getting what he wants. So, we laid low.

With maneuvering, Cora was given permission from her community college professors to switch to an online section of the same class. This made it possible for Marks and I to work together from the building behind Wags instead of going in two different directions.

At night, we ate dinner and watched the Jags play ball, and then a couple of episodes of Gilmore Girls, which Marks pretends to hate, but I’m pretty sure he’s getting into it. Cora is typically the first to bed, so I’m forced to watch CeCe’s creepy-ass serial killer documentaries while watching CeCe Shaw fall head over heels with a boy and his puppy.

The problem is that I know those smiles she gets when receiving a text from him, and it makes me physically feel like shit. I wonder if muscle memory affects the heart, too, because I swear mine is breaking all over again.

And it’s not just watching CeCe fall. Leland—I mean Locke; he’s Locke now, not Leland, not for a really long time—well, his focus is as fierce as it was at the beginning of his career, and his batting average is climbing every game.

I am so fucking proud of him.