CHAPTER NINE

Another twenty minutes passed, and just as I was beginning to let my guard down, the knock came again. This time, it was sharper. Louder. I jumped, my heart racing as I stood up. Before I could even think of going to open the door, Cherish’s hand shot out, gripping my arm.

“I don’t think so.”

For a second, I wanted to argue, but then the alcohol coursing through my veins hit me. My head swam, and I realized just how far gone I was. “Fine,” I think I muttered, sinking back into my chair at Cherish's warning look.

Jason and Gabe were already making their way to the foyer. We fell silent, straining to hear what was happening over the music. Gabe repeated the same question he had before and the voice came again, the same flat, unnervingly calm tone.

“Is Kristy home?”

Jason’s response was immediate. “Didn’t you just knock and get told she’s not fucking here?”

“Jason,” Daniella hissed as she jumped up and made to go get him, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. She wasn’t exactly in a state to lecture anyone, though.

The door slammed shut, and a moment later, the guys returned to the dining room. Jason looked annoyed, his arm wrapped around her, and Gabe just shrugged like it was no big deal.

“I need to pee. Be right back. Keep playing.”

Cherish gave me a cautious look but nodded, and I stood up again, swaying slightly. I made it upstairs without falling on my ass or busting open my face so that was a win. I never drank like this. I was a casual sipper. Then again, when I went out I was with Wilder and a completely different friend group aside from my sister and Ella tagging along.

He always watched over me and knew my tells to cut off my supply. He always…watched over me. I think I was going to miss that. I rubbed my chest where it began to burn. I really missed him. I hated his ass for doing this to me, but I couldn’t take years of feelings and just pretend they didn’t exist.

I went into the room Cherish and I had claimed, Moose’s nails clicked against the floor as he followed me.

My head was swimming, and everything felt a little too loud, a little too bright. Once inside, I dug through my suitcase, drunkenly pulling out some clothes I wasn’t sure even matched and my toiletries. Somewhere in my mind, I knew not to fall asleep with a liquor mouth.

Clutching my things, I crossed the hall to one of the bathrooms. Moose stayed close, his tail wagging softly as he followed me. His presence was grounding, a small comfort against the whirlwind in my head.

“Be right back,” I told him, nudging him gently with my foot before closing and locking the door behind me.

I set my things on the counter and then went to use the toilet. When I was done, I leaned against the sink, my palms pressing into the cold porcelain. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly above me as I stared into the mirror. My reflection stared back, familiar, yet somehow distant.

I studied myself critically, taking in every detail. I knew I was pretty. Not in a vain way, but in the way you just know something about yourself. Socially above average, or at least that’s what I’d always been told by Daniella and Thorne when he broke down what his type was, wanting me to play matchmaker.

My body didn’t fit the mold of skinny and delicate like Cherish’s. She was effortless elegance, all long limbs, and understated grace. My body ping-ponged between a size 5 and a size 6 depending on the season.

I had curves, a chest that made bra shopping an event, and an ass that stayed toned thanks to years of softball and regular gym sessions. I wasn’t glamorous like the girls I’d seen on Wilder’s phone. Those girls had polished perfection down to an art—flawless makeup, hair that didn’t know what a bad day looked like, and wardrobes that screamed effortless luxury.

I could be like that, though. I liked getting dolled up, putting on a killer dress, and turning heads. But I also liked sweatpants and hoodies, messy buns, and skipping makeup just because I could. That duality was mine, and I owned it. Most of the time.

I wasn’t sure where the fuck I was going with this train of thought. That I was too pretty to be betrayed? I sneered at myself. Beyoncé got cheated on, so clearly, looks did fuck all to keep a man. Not that I wanted to hook one that way, anyway. Still, the thought that maybe that was why stung, lingering like a bitter aftertaste.

It was my inebriated brain drudging up insecurities out of freaking nowhere. Wilder never made me feel less. He called me beautiful when my hormonal acne showed up during my brutal periods. He said it when my long, usually straight hair betrayed me, sticking out in wild directions like I’d fought an electrical outlet and lost.

He whispered it when I was sick and miserable, bundled in blankets on the couch with tissues everywhere. It wasn’t just words with him; it was the way he looked at me like nothing else in the world mattered. So, it wasn’t my physical appearance. It damn sure wasn’t my personality. I refused to go there. Was that cocky? Maybe.

It couldn’t be the sex. He couldn’t have faked that, could he? No one was that good of an actor. Every moan, every groan, every time he whispered filthy shit in my ear, like my pussy was the only thing keeping him alive—it had to be real. Right?

Right?

Jesus Christ.

What was wrong with men?

I splashed some water on my face, the chill biting against my skin and doing nothing to cool the rising frustration. My mind felt like it was running circles around itself, looking for a logical explanation in a sea of chaos.

There wasn’t one.

I wasn’t even supposed to be thinking of him or men in general. It was against the rules. Plus, right then I hated them all. Every single one of them. Except for my second-chance dad and a few uncles. Women needed an island, a safe haven where the opposite sex was banned for all eternity. We could live in peace, free from the endless headaches they caused by being fucking idiots. If we got horny? Easy. We could cuddle dildos, vibrators, or each other.

Problem solved.

I sighed, leaning closer to the mirror and brushing a stray hair out of my face.

Moose whined softly outside the door, his nails clicking against the wood as he shifted his weight.

“Almost done,” I called.

I moved away from myself and turned the shower on to full blast. The bathroom quickly filled with steam, fogging the mirror as I stripped off my clothes, having to use the wall for support. The cool air brushed against my skin. I stepped into the tub, immediately dancing away from the liner as it clung to my leg.

“So damn gross,” I laughed at myself, so I didn’t cry, swatting it back into place, and sighing as the hot water cascaded over me. The heat sank into my skin, soothing and sobering me just the tiniest bit. The faint sounds of laughter and music drifted up from downstairs, muffled through the walls.

For a moment, I let myself focus on it, grounding myself in the normalcy of my friends and their ridiculous antics.

Moose barked sharply from outside the door, pulling me from my thoughts. I froze, my hand hovering midair as I reached for shampoo.

“Moose?” I called out as if he could answer me.

There was nothing. Just silence. After a moment, I shook my head and laughed at myself. “You’re losing it,” I whispered, rubbing my temples before continuing with my shower. If it was anything serious, Moose wouldn’t just bark once and stop.

By the time I was done, the bathroom was a sauna.

I remembered then that I hadn’t thought of making sure any towels were in the room before getting into the shower. I hunted through the linen closet and managed to find a stack. “Thank God.” I pulled two out and wrapped one around my body.

I twisted the other around my wet hair, finally feeling somewhat human again. As I wiped the fog off the mirror and prepared to brush my teeth, my gaze caught on a thin gold necklace. It was draped carelessly over the soap dispenser. The light reflected off the delicate piece, drawing my attention. Frowning, I reached out and carefully picked it up.

The chain was dainty and elegant, with a small diamond-encrusted “A” pendant dangling from it. My brows furrowed as I turned it over in my fingers. It wasn’t mine. I didn’t own anything like this, and I couldn’t recall seeing it on anyone I was staying with. It wasn’t uncommon for random things to get left behind in rentals. This could have easily been overlooked. I hadn’t noticed it until then. My sluggish brain conjured up an image I didn’t want the longer I stared at it.

Amber Hughes.

She wore a pendant like this. The thought sent a bitter taste into my mouth.

I dropped the necklace back onto the counter as though it burned me, cursing under my breath as the image of her perfect tits flitted through my mind.

Why the hell would I even let my mind go there?

“Goddammit, Wilder,” I swore, the words echoing faintly in the small bathroom as I angrily swiped at my cheeks. My fingers tightened on the towel wrapped around me, a flood of anger and sadness threatening to pull me under. I hated how easily the memories could unravel me. Even here, miles away, in a house full of my closest friends, his presence still clung to me like a shadow. When did this phase end?

I took a deep breath. “Get it together,” I told myself, grabbing my toiletries and the pile of clothes I’d brought. “It’s just a necklace.”

I stepped out into the hallway and Moose greeted me with a wag of his stubby tail, but even he seemed to sense my unease.

I didn’t go back downstairs. Instead, I went straight to the room I was sharing with Cherish. I pitched my clothes aside and flopped down onto the bed. I broke my own rule, patting the space beside me when I looked over at Moose. “Come on, big guy.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a huff, he hauled his massive body onto the bed and settled in beside me, his warmth pressing against my side. I wrapped an arm around him, letting his steady breathing calm the mess of thoughts swirling in my head. I wasn’t sure how much time passed. Minutes? An hour? Before the door creaked open.

Light footsteps padded across the floor, and then the bed dipped as Cherish climbed in beside me, squeezing into the already tight space Moose and I had claimed.

I laughed softly, rolling to the side to give her some room. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you sad girl cuddles,” she declared, her voice slurred with drunkenness.

“You’re super drunk. And I’m not sad.”

“Shhh,” she shushed me loudly, the scent of liquor heavy on her breath. “You are. It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll still kick his ass when I see him.”

That made me laugh, despite myself. “Cherish, you couldn’t kick a soccer ball in your state, let alone someone’s ass.”

She huffed indignantly, resting her head on my shoulder like we were kids again. “Doesn’t matter. I’d figure it out. Nobody makes my baby sister sad and gets away with it.”

Her words warmed me, even as I shook my head. “I’m not sad,” I insisted, though my voice lacked conviction.

“Liar,” she murmured, hugging me tighter. “You’re my sister. I know you.”

We talked a little after that—well, as much as one semi-drunk and one fully drunk girl could manage. Our words were slurred and scattered, the conversation weaving between nonsense and fleeting moments of seriousness.

At some point, her breathing evened out, and I knew she’d fallen asleep. I was on the verge of drifting off myself when I heard the door open again. Moose let out a soft huff but didn’t move.

I cracked my eyes open just enough to see Ryan standing in the doorway. His expression softened as he took in the scene—the two of us squished onto the bed, Cherish half-sprawled across me, Moose taking up the rest of the space.

Without a word, he grabbed the comforter from Cherish’s bed and draped it over us, tucking it in gently before retreating. I let my eyes close again, a faint smile on my lips.

I woke to the sensation of being shoved halfway off the bed and sunlight streaming through the windows, blinding and relentless. My head throbbed as I squinted against the light, groaning. Cherish had sprawled out in her sleep, taking up most of the bed, her arm flung carelessly over where I’d been lying.

“Cherish,” I griped, carefully maneuvering myself off the edge without falling. My headache pounded with each small movement. I looked down at myself and saw I was in sweatpants and a WOW sweatshirt—sans bra and underwear. I didn’t remember putting clothes on, but I had to be pretty damn out of it to skip those.

I looked around and saw Moose was no longer on the bed. I frowned, scanning the room. He wasn’t sprawled out on the floor or curled up by the door. He wasn’t anywhere. Carefully, I grabbed the blanket Cherish had kicked off and pulled it back over her.

She shifted but didn’t wake, mumbling something incoherent into the pillow.

“Moose?” I called softly, stepping into the hallway. The house was eerily quiet. I glanced toward the windows in the dining area. Judging by the light, it had to be midmorning, maybe later. Everyone else must’ve still been asleep. As I walked past the dining room, I stopped short.

Jason was asleep on top of the table. His hair was a mess, one sock was missing and Sharpie doodles were covering his face. Someone, or maybe himself, had draped the rug from the living room over him like a makeshift blanket.

“What the hell did I miss last night?” I murmured as I moved on, continuing my search for my dog.

I wandered through the living room, then the kitchen, growing more uneasy with every empty corner I passed. My steps slowed when I felt a faint breeze, cool and insistent.

Following it, I paused, my stomach dropping as I stared at the enclosed porch. The door to the outside was wide open, swaying slightly in the breeze.

“No, no, no,” I whispered, the panic rising in my chest as I did the math. Moose wasn’t in the house. The door was open.

He’d gone outside.

“Moose!” I called, my voice a little louder now as I stepped onto the porch and peered into the yard. Nothing but trees and an empty lawn greeted me. “Moose?”

Silence.

Shit.

I turned and jogged back inside, my heart pounding. There was no way I was about to take off into the woods without my phone, but the problem was I didn’t have it. Naija had taken the box of phones after we’d all tossed ours in, and now I had no idea where it was.

“Where the hell did she leave it?”

I darted from room to room, my panic growing with every passing second. I had no way of knowing how long the door had been open or how far Moose could’ve gone.

“Autumn?” Ryan’s groggy voice called out from somewhere behind me. I turned to find him standing in the foyer, his hair messy and his expression still half-asleep.

“Do you know where Naija left the phones?” I asked quickly, barely pausing.

He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “No. What’s wrong?”

“My dog’s gone,” I divulged, the panic evident in my voice. “If anyone asks where I am, tell them—”

“I’ll go with you,” he interrupted.

“You don’t need to—”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere surrounded by trees, Autumn,” he needlessly reminded me, cutting me off again. “Let me put something on first.”

It was only then that I noticed he was standing there in nothing but boxer shorts and a t-shirt, his long frame looking both casual and utterly unbothered. Any other time it might’ve been funny, but I was too wound up to care.

“Fine, but hurry,” I stressed, pacing back and forth as he turned to head back to his room.

A few agonizing minutes later, Ryan emerged, now dressed in jeans and a hoodie, tugging his boots on as he walked. Gabe trailed after him, looking like death warmed over, his hair sticking up in odd directions and his eyes bloodshot, but his expression was sweetly determined.

“He told me Moose got out,” he explained, his voice low and slightly raspy. “I’ll help. Not sure what asshole left the door wide open. I wrote a note for the others in case we’re gone long.” He held up a notepad.

“That’s smart. Thank you. Thank you both.”

We stepped outside, the morning air sharp and cool against my skin. Gabe gestured toward an already-made clearing that seemed to lead into the woods. I hadn’t noticed it at all the night before. “Let’s try this path first. If he wandered off, he might’ve followed it.”

I nodded, and the three of us headed for the trail, calling out for Moose as we went. My voice cracked as I yelled his name. I had to fight the overwhelming urge to cry, swallowing to keep it at bay.

“We’ll find him,” Gabe reassured me, his tone confident despite his hungover state.

Ryan chimed in, even calmer but just as resolute. “I don’t think he’ll have gone far. He’s pretty well trained and basically glued to your side, right?”

“Yeah.” My voice wavered. I wanted to believe them, I really did, but something about the open door and the silence of the woods wasn’t making me feel very positive.

We continued walking, calling for Moose every few feet. Every rustle of leaves or distant sound had me spinning around, hoping it was him.

“Wait.” I stopped abruptly when something caught my eye. Ryan and Gabe turned to look at me. I took a step closer to a low-hanging branch off the path, where Moose’s leather collar was tied with a red string.