Page 52 of Lodged

“Oh, she ghosted you, then?”

“No,” I answer immediately. Vicente simply stares at me. “Ugh, I don’t know,” I say as I rub my face with my hand.

“Gio, I appreciate you. You know that. But man, you are a fucking billionaire, smart as all hell. What the fuck are you doing pining for a girl who left you on read?” Vicente says in his no-nonsense tone, and I internally groan.

“I don’t know if she ghosted me. I don’t know if something happened to her. I don’t know anything, and it’s killing me inside,” I tell him what’s been on my mind. He releases a deep breath and moves from his desk to a small bar in his office.

“And what’s the plan, what do you want to do?” Isn’t that the billion-dollar question.

“I want to go look for her.”

“Do you know her hometown?” I nod, and Vicente downs his drink.

“So, what—are you planning to knock on every single door in that town? Do you know the population?”

“I did my research—I have the address to her family’s orchard,” I answer.

“And you’re going to do this in the middle of winter?” I wince as I hear Vicente voicing my thoughts.

“It sounds crazy when you say it out loud.”

“Because itisfucking crazy, Gio,” he says and then turns his gaze to me. “Believe me, I say this with love: cut your lossesand move on, or hire a fucking professional.” I close my eyes, trying to let his words sink in, but there’s no way. I have to do this myself. What if someone finds her and she doesn't want anything to do with me? I need to hear that directly from her.

“I don’t know, man. There’s definitely a lot to think about.”

Vicente nods in agreement.

“I’ll be here whenever you want to vent, but please be safe,” Vicente says, and after a brief goodbye, I disconnect the video call.

Heading to the kitchen to get a drink, I stumble upon the pumpkin-spiced cocoa mix Ruin made—it tastes so good, but if she’s not here, I don’t want it. I toss it in the trash and get a glass of whisky instead. If I ever taste the damn cocoa mix, it’ll be because I found her, and she’s here with me.

The trip to Azalea Creek hasn’t been easy. They get actual snow here in the mountains, and I’ve never driven in it—except for the rare time Raleigh gets snow, and not only the roads collapse but the grocery stores run out of toilet paper, bread, and milk.

Vicente asked if I wanted him to come for moral support, but the thought of having the posh Vicente Godoy driving a truck along the Blue Ridge Parkway makes me laugh.

“AbueloBianchi, please give me a sign to not give up,” I say as I park my car in downtown Azalea Creek. There are a few stores open and a warm cup of coffee sounds amazing—it’s 15°F outside (-9°C), and even in the warmth of my car, my balls are freezing.

“Good evening, may I have a croissant and a coffee to go?” The lady smiles at me and after ringing my order, she takes off to prepare it.

When she comes back with my food, I take my phone and show her a picture of Ruin.

“I’m sorry to ask, but is there any chance you know this girl?” She looks at my phone, then at me and shakes her head. I squint my eyes at her. How can she not know Ruin? From what I recall, Ruin said her family is well-known in town.

“Are you sure?” I press, but the lady doesn’t budge. She ignores me and asks me to leave instead. I deflate at her hostility and head back out to the car to eat my snack before I head to another store to ask for Ruin.

While eating my snack in the car, I study the town. It’s a quaint little place surrounded by mountains. Its streets are still decorated for the holidays, and the piles of snow are neatly organized. Pretty impressive.

Once I’m done eating, I head back to the streets. There’s an apothecary, and my mind immediately goes to Ruin—she would love a place like this.

Rosebay Apothecary is charmingly decorated with what I assume are pictures of the town back in the day. Horse carriages, vintage trucks carrying a load of apples, people out and about at a festival bring its history to life.

“Can I help you?” A lady comes out of the back of the store, wearing a white lab coat, and her hair is up in a neat bun. I hadn’t really paid attention to everything they sell here, but it’s a mix of candles, ointments, creams, and soaps. I wonder if they’re handmade on site.

“Yes, hello. I hope I don’t sound strange, but I’m looking for someone, and I wonder if perhaps you know her.” The lady straightens her back and gives me a curt nod. I feel quite uncomfortable. I don’t want to sound like a stalker, but for people who don’t know me, I’m sure that’s how I look. “This is her. I met her back in Raleigh, but she mentioned she’s from a town in the mountains, and I’d like to reconnect with her.” Themoment the words come out of my mouth, I know I sound like a psychopath. Fuck.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never seen her,” she says, her demeanor immediately changing.

“Are you sure?” I ask, because there’s no way Google has it wrong. I saw with my own eyes that her family’s orchard is in this town.

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