Page 172 of Finding Delaware

“Hey, what’s going on?” He grabs my arm, brows pinched in concern when he sees the frenzy I’m in. “Thought you were with your man?”

My voice cracks when I answer in his ear. “I can’t find him, I’ve looked everywhere. And his phone is off.”

“I’ll help you look. Have you checked outside?”

Frantically, I shake my head, and we search the front yard, coming up empty. When we step into the backyard, one of my teammates, Robbie, calls me over to the firepit.

“Yo, Davis! Did you find your bro?”

“Huh?” I gaze at him with wild eyes, probably looking like a psycho from the look he exchanges with some of the other players.

“Guy was looking for you. Tall, dark hair, lots of tattoos? Eyebrow piercing?”

A sharp gasp escapes my lips. “That was my boyfriend! Did you see where he went?”

His eyes widen, jaw dropping slightly. “Oh. He said he was your stepbrother. Saw him disappear with a bottle of rum, but I didn’t see where. Sorry, dude.”

What?!Why the hell would he do that?!

“Goddammit,” I shout angrily, causing Greg to wince as he follows me back into the house. That familiar feeling starts to squeeze up my spine, my neck tense as the bodies around me close in. But I can’t lose my shit right now, not when Taylor has clearly lost his mind, and I can’t fucking find him.

Shoving through the crowd until I’m back on the front porch, I rub my eyes and try to breathe. Greg traces circles on my back like he used to when I’d get this way, and admittedly, it’s helping, even though I wish it was my boyfriend doing it and not my ex. Once I’ve calmed down enough to think clearly, I rack my brain, trying to figure out what to do.

“Is there somewhere he might have gone to stay?” Greg asks.

“He doesn’t know anyone out here. He’s never even been here before.” That gives me an idea. “I’m going to drive around and look for his truck, search all the nearby hotels to see if I can find it.”

“I’ll come with.”

I raise a brow at him, wondering why the hell he’s helping me, but I don’t push the issue. Greg’s always been a good guy, and I didn’t treat him very well. He follows me to where my red Audi is parked—a graduation gift from Grandma and Gramps—and I start it up before heading down the road. I barely get ten feet before a flash of yellow has me slamming on the brakes.

“That’s his truck right there!”

I’m out of the car in seconds, leaving it in the middle of the street as I sprint to where the truck is parked on the curb. Terror claws up my throat when I glance inside the window.

Taylor is lying face down on the seat, bottle clutched in his hand where it dangles on the floor. Music screams over the speakers, but the door is locked when I try to pull on the handle. Fuck.

“Taylor! Open up, baby.” I bang on the window, trying to rouse him, but he doesn’t move. My knuckles split when Istart punching the glass, cursing to high heaven for it being so strong, and Greg grips my wrist before I can land another blow.

“Huckslee, stop, stop. You’re going to break your hand before training camp. Do you really want that?”

“I don’t give a fuck right now. I need to get to him.”

Shaking Greg off, I pull back to launch another hit, but he steps between me and the truck, palms on my chest.

“I know you’re upset, but you need to calm down. I have an idea, alright? His back window is cracked. I can probably shimmy through and unlock the door.”

Shit, he’s right. It is. I hadn’t even noticed.

Blinking the tears of frustration away, I frown down at him. “You’d do that for me?”

“Duh.” He clucks his tongue, rolling his eyes as he walks around the truck to the back. “For someone so smart, Davis, you’re really dense.”

Well, fuck. I don’t even know how to respond as I watch him hop into the truck bed and slide open the window on the back of the cab above the seat. He’s barely tiny enough to squeeze through, and he leans over Taylor to unlock the door. He tries to open it from the inside, but it gets stuck because this truck is a piece of shit, and the door only opens from the outside. I yank it open, causing Greg to nearly fall forward, and I wrap my arms around Taylor, pulling him up to my chest.

“Baby, it’s me. It’s Huck. Wake up.”

His lids flutter but don’t open, lashes crusted, and the tears streaking down his cheeks set me off instantly. I’ve never seen him cry before. Why the hell was he crying? He mumblesincoherently, breath rank with alcohol, and I shake his body firmly, gripping his jaw.

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