Page 74 of Off Sides

I need to know he’s coming back.

I need to know he’s safe.

“Come on,” I mumble under my breath, but once again it goes to voicemail. “Fuck!” I storm out of the room and into the stairwell. I don’t know where to go or how to find him, and I’m losing it. Gripping the railing, I drop into a crouch and press my forehead against the cold metal. I close my eyes and force myself to take deep, slow breaths. My face is hot but my body is freezing as the anxiety of what I’ll do if I lose him takes over my mind, spiraling faster and faster into the deep pools of despair.

It feels like my body is vibrating inside of my skin and I don’t know how to make it stop. The urge to move, to pace, pushes me down the stairs to the ground floor. I need help. To calm myself.

Brent.

My hands are shaking so hard I have trouble getting my phone out of my pocket or to his name in my contacts, but I eventually manage it, cursing at myself on the urge of a breakdown.

“Hey, dumba?—”

“I can’t lose him.”

“What? Who?” Instantly, my brother is in information gathering mode. His brain is firing on all cylinders to put together the pieces.

“Joey. He’s gone.” My voice cracks on the last word and my lip trembles. The pressure on my chest is so intense I can’t breathe. “I-I can’t. I can’t lose him. Not again. I can’t have someone else taken from me.” I’m half hysterical. I can hear it in my voice but I can’t stop the tidal wave of fear that’s crashed into me and taken out my retaining walls. I’m flooded with every bad possibility, every way Joey can’t be mine anymore.

“Nick.”

Flashes of being sixteen and helpless as the girl I loved was taken away in the dark of night, never to be heard from again. I begged my parents to help her, to get her away from the abusive home she was with. Mom promised to help her, but she didn’t. I never found out what happened to her. She could be dead for all I know.

“Nicholas!”

Tears roll down my face unchecked, dripping on my shirt. “I won’t survive losing him.”

“You have survived every bad day you’ve ever had. You will continue to survive because I won’t let you do anything else.” Brent’s harsh tone wraps around me like a weighted blanket. Comforting and familiar. He won’t let me suffocate. “Start at the beginning, what happened?”

“I don’t know!” I rip at my hair and pace in front of the dorms. “Everything was fine this morning when we went to class. It’s finals week, he had one before I did. I texted him before I went into my last one and he hasn’t opened the message. His room is a mess, shit everywhere.” Panic claws at my throat, stealing my ability to speak for a second. “His roommate says he was going home for break, but that was never his plan. He was going to stay with me! It’s pretty obvious he packed in a hurry, and he’s not answering his phone.”

“Okay, take a deep breath. Fill your lungs then suck in more. Hold it, then slowly release it.” His calm seeps through the phone and settles a part of me. I do what he says, closing my eyes and focusing all of my attention on breathing. “Good, again.”

I do. Over and over until the urge to scream is a low rumble.

“Okay. Tell me about his family. He’s close to them, right?”

Brent needs facts, to gather information to figure out what happened.

“Yes and no. He raised his brother and sister after their dad died. His mom blames him for his brother being a fuckup but she was working while they were growing up. Every time anything happens, they call him. It’s bullshit. They’ve put the weight of the family on his shoulders and expect him to fix everything.”

Why didn’t I ask for Charlotte’s number just in case of an emergency? I know having emergency contacts is important.

“Do you have any way to contact his family?”

I groan and wipe my face. “No. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You were a bit dick-stracted, it’s understandable.” His nonchalant tone makes me chuckle, breaking through the panic and anxiety to allow me to think clearly. “So he lets his family take advantage of him? Am I getting that right?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty fucking accurate. And he’s the scapegoat when anything goes wrong.”

“So logically he probably got a call from his family and went home to deal with it since he’s done with finals.”

I sigh and hate that he’s probably right.

Walking over to a bench, I drop down onto the cold metal and immediately regret my choice since my ass is now wet from the rain left on it.

“Probably,” I huff and hate myself a little for immediately panicking. “But why isn’t he answering his phone or texting me back?”

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