Page 85 of Bound and Blitzed

Cohen sighs. “What’s going on? You’ve been in your head all day and while I know, better than anyone, that you can lock into football when you have to, it’s more than that.”

I roll my lips together and rock back on my heels, placing my hands on my hips. How much do I confide? I mean, he’s my best friend and I spent a handful of nights on his couch last week; he obviously knows shit between Valentina and me is fucked right now. “I haven’t heard from her.”

Cohen frowns. “Isn’t she in the mountains? There’s probably no cell service.”

I shake my head. “It’s been four days since she texted. I don’t know, man. Something feels off.” I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. That there’s too much space—too much silence—between Valentina and me.

“I know things with you and Vale are complicated,” Cohen hedges quietly.

I meet his eyes and know that he knows more than he lets on. He’s my best friend, we have a lot of history together, and he’ll always have my back. But I won’t confide that Valentina and I married for the wrong reasons.

“It doesn’t mean I love her any less,” I say.

“Of course not,” he agrees. “But do you think you’re being paranoid? Or?—”

“I’m not.” I shake my head, cutting him off. “I’ve had this feeling for the past two days. We may be taking a break and figuring things out, but we never stopped speaking. Sure, it was fucking awkward, but I never thought she’d ghost me. I still don’t. I’ve called her twice, Cohen. I’ve sent her three text messages. She would answer me.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have service.”

“All this time? She’s in Tennessee.”

“In the middle of nowhere,” he counters.

“It doesn’t feel right, man. Something is wrong. I know it in my bones. And you know what? Say I’m wrong—what’s the harm in a husband making sure his wife is okay?”

Cohen is silent for a beat. “Nothing. Is there someone else you can call?”

“Dr. Mendoza,” I say, wondering how I can get her number.

“Yo! We’ll see you at Corks?” Talon asks.

“See you soon,” Cohen says, waving the guys ahead.

I sit down on the bench and hunch forward. Scrolling through my phone, I realize I have no contacts for any of Valentina’s colleagues or friends.

I frown, wondering who her circle is.

Other than the one night I went to her presentation and met Dr. Mendoza, I haven’t connected with any of the team members she’s on this trip with. There is no one to fucking call.

I’m about to ring the department to inquire about a way to connect with Dr. Mendoza when my phone buzzes in my hand.

It’s an unknown number, yet the second I see it on my phone’s screen, my stomach pitches. And I know it’s connected to Valentina.

“Hello?” I answer quickly.

“I’m looking for Avery Callaway,” a woman replies, her voice clipped.

“I’m Avery,” I confirm.

Cohen’s eyebrows draw together, and he sits beside me.

The woman sighs. “Avery, I’m sorry to call like this. It’s Dr. Mendoza. We met?—”

“I know who you are. I was going to get ahold of you. I haven’t heard from Valentina. Is everything okay?”

There’s a beat of silence. It’s short and yet, it feels like eons. In that one blink, my heart stops, my stomach bottoms out, and nausea swirls.

“No. It’s not. Valentina is missing,” Dr. Mendoza explains.

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