Page 75 of Don't You Pucking Dare

I turn to glare at him, but there's no judgment in his face. Just cold logic.

"I don't even know her dealers." My voice cracks. "What kind of daughter knows where her mom gets her drugs?"

He shrugs off my stupid question.

"If she’s free like out on the loose, then why wouldn’t she call me? And if she didn’t have my number, she knows I’m at Blackridge."

"Are you her priority?" he asks, still in that cold tone.

But I have too many emotions bubbling up. I stare at the house, knowing she’s not in there. "This is a waste of time," I say, turning to him.

"You don’t know that."

Now I’m furious. "You just made a valid fucking point that I’m not a priority in my mom’s life."

"Damn, Duchess. You’re taking it to the left field."

"I want to know where she is!" I snap.

He points at the house. "That’s why we’re here, baby. If this is a dead end then we turn around and go down another street."

I scoff. "I never took you for poetic."

The house remains quiet. Like my mother, like Brody, like everyone in my life who shows me one face while hiding another. I know she’s not here. Why would she be?

The first hour crawls by. Brody sits like a statue, only his eyes moving as he scans the street. I don't know how he does this—this endless waiting, this practiced patience. My skin feels too tight, my thoughts spinning darker with each passing minute.

Another hour bleeds into nothing. "Can we go?"

He just shakes his head.

"This is pointless." Frustration makes my voice sharp. "Nobody's even home."

"Rush hour's starting." His calm only irritates me more. "We wait."

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?"

His eyes find mine. "Because I found you crying. And you deserve answers."

I slump in my seat, arms crossed, hating how his logic makes sense. My mind cycles through possibilities—each one worse than the last. Dead in a trunk. High in some crack house. Lost on the streets. Safe at her best friend’s.

Sarah's silver Civic appears just as the sun starts setting. I'm out of the car before Brody can stop me.

"Where the fuck—" The slam of my door cuts off his words.

Sarah's garage door is rising painfully slow. I wave, catching her attention before she can disappear inside.

"Lola?" She rolls down her window, confusion clear on her face. "What are you doing here?"

My heart sinks. If Mom was here, Sarah wouldn't look so surprised.

"When's the last time you talked to her?" The words come out in a rush.She parks, kills the engine. "Not for a while, honey. Is something wrong?"

"I can't reach her." The half-truth tastes bitter. "Just... checking options."

"Is she out?" Sarah's eyes sharpen. "Of the facility?"

I shrug, but she reads something in my face. "I can’t know for sure because I’m no longer on her contact list."

---