Page 81 of Bad & Bossy

“He’s—” his voice cut off for a second, and then he was swearing under his breath. “Shit. I’ve got to go. Cole’s calling.”

“He’s calling you?” I snapped, the vest falling from my open palm. My breath caught in my throat. Why isn’t he calling me?

“I’ll let you know what he says. But I have to take this. Talk later.”

————

I’d barely been able to contain my frustration through every stupid fucking tour of the day.

I slid into the driver’s seat of my Camry, exhausted and angry. Between every tour, I’d tried to call Cole. No answer. Tried Grayson. No answer.

My phone was nearly dead from the amount of calls I’d made.

I turned the key in the ignition as I searched through my purse for my charger but came up empty. Shit. Must have left it in the diaper bag.

It was fine. I’d be home in twenty minutes and could resume angry calling there.

————

Twenty minutes turned into forty. Then fifty. Then an hour.

Traffic was backed up as far as I could see down the main road that cut through the center of Boulder. My radio didn’t work and my phone was long dead. I had nothing but my stupid, relentless thoughts to keep me entertained.

And boy, did they.

I couldn’t stop wondering why Cole wasn’t talking to me. Couldn’t stop thinking the worst, wondering if he was knee-deep in a bender he couldn’t get out of and didn’t want my help. Had he talked to Grayson before today? Was Grayson keeping shit from me? Or was he being honest and that’s why he wasn’t picking up my calls anymore, because he was trying to get Cole back?

I leaned forward, resting my head on the steering wheel.

He had to have relapsed. I didn’t care what Gray said. The signs were there. Aggression: he’d nearly strangled his father, though I guess I would have done the same if it were me so I could cancel that one out. The smell: I hadn’t gotten the chance to smell his breath when he fucked me. He’d swerved every attempt I’d made to kiss him. The running away: Mom had done that numerous times when things got bad.

He had a lot of reasons to relapse right now.

My thoughts turned to Drew, to how I’d seen how happy both he and Cole were back in Costa Rica when we were able to play family. I should have told him then. Should have done a lot of things differently but that was the main thing I wished I could change. Part of me wanted to just call Cole right now and tell him, even if it had to be in a voicemail. I could use it as bait to get him to speak to me again, but my phone was dead and I had no way of knowing whether or not he was checking voicemails.

Was it even worth telling him anymore?

If he’d relapsed, could I even have him around Drew?

My brain hurt thinking about it all.

An hour turned into nearly two by the time I pulled into the neighborhood, the backs of my eyes burning and my hands shaking from too much time alone with my thoughts. I could have walked home in half the time.

Red and blue lights lit up my street from the main road. Maybe someone had run over Robert. One could hope.

But as I got closer to home they grew brighter, and louder, and angrier?—

No.

No, no, no.

They were at my fucking house.

I slammed the brakes and sprung from the car, running past the ambulance and the two Boulder Police Department cars out front. Adrenaline and fear carried me, all of my exhaustion gone, and by the time I made it to my front lawn, two EMTs were wheeling out a stretcher through my front door.

Drew lay still in the center of it.

I didn’t hear the scream that ripped from my throat, didn’t feel the grass hit my knees, but my sister was on me in seconds.

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