Page 34 of Loco

Letting out a breath, I released Sayla and stepped over to the back door, calling softly to the dogs as I cracked it open. Cold air rushed in, biting at my skin, but the dogs came bounding toward me, tails wagging, full of life and energy. At leastsomeonewasn’t feeling the weight of everything right now.

Maybe I was overthinking it. Perhaps I just wasn’t ready for the storm inside to start up again now that the one outside had finally calmed.

But either way, I could feel it coming, and I wasn’t sure how ready I was.

Chapter 11

Sayla

Aweek had passed since the worst of the snowstorm, and life outside was slowly clawing its way back to normal. Plows had groaned down the street for days, salt trucks had passed like clockwork, and neighbors had been shoveling what was left of the snow off their walkways, muttering about frozen pipes and cracked gutters. It was the kind of quiet chaos that came after nature threw a tantrum.

Inside my house, the cleanup was just as intense.

My dad stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed over his chest, staring up at the gaping hole in the ceiling with a grimace like it had personally insulted him. Bits of insulation still clung to the floor like dust bunnies from hell, and the smell of water damage lingered faintly in the air.

“Jesus,” he muttered, for what had to be the tenth time in five minutes. “That bath didn’t just leak, itexploded.”

I closed the box I’d just finished packing with what was salvageable from the hallway closet. “Yeah, Dad, weknow. You’ve said that multiple times.”

“But look at this.” He turned, gesturing wildly. “The floor’s probably warped now. You’ll need a full ceiling replacement, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s water in the wall cavities. That could mean mold, so you need to get that checked. And the wiring up there—God, don’t even get me started?—”

“Dad.” I rubbed my temple. “The insurance adjuster was here this morning. They’re covering the ceiling, the floors, the bathroom, the electrics, and yes, the walls. They already agreed in principle to pay for the repairs. You can take a breath.”

He gave me a look like I’d just told him I was planning to rebuild the house using bubble gum and fairy dust. “I’m just saying—there’s probably more wrong with it than they think.”

“There’salwaysmore than they think,” I muttered under my breath.

My irritation was bubbling, but I bit it back. Dad meant well—he always did—but the constant doom-and-gloom commentary was starting to feel like an extra layer of damage I hadn’t insured against. Add to that the noise, the mess, the clutter, and the fact that my house no longer felt likemine, and I was dangerously close to snapping.

But at least I had Roque. Or I had.

Living with him these past few days had felt easy in a way I hadn’t expected. Comfortable. Safe. Like we’d slid into this shared rhythm without talking about it. He’d been kind, funny, and steady, even when I wasn’t.

So naturally, my dad had something to say about that, too.

“You know,” he said, turning to me as if this had just occurred to him, “you can always stay with us. Your mom’s been saying it since day one. You don’t need to be shacked up with someboyin the middle of all this chaos.”

I blinked. “Someboy? I’m an adult,Dad.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to play house with someone just because?—”

“Heidi lived with Bond before they got married,” I cut in, arms folded.

He grunted. “I said the same thing to her, and you know what? None of my damn kids listen to me anyway.”

I snorted, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. I walked over to the window, just to have something else to focus on, and looked across the street toward Roque’s place.

It was dark. That was odd, he was supposed to be home hours ago. Out of habit, I’d been listening for the sound of his SUV and checking for the glow of his porch light. Maybe work ran late. It happened. Maybe Judd had called him in. Or maybe—hopefully not—he’d had to stop by Ailee’s again for something. Or perhaps he was with his family. He’d mentioned wanting to check in on his sister and see his new niece. He was close with his nephew, Cody, and I knew he’d been missing them.

But even as I tried to logic my way out of the unease crawling up my spine, it didn’t help that he didn’t text or call. And by the time I climbed into bed that night, his phone was still off.

I lay awake far longer than I wanted to, staring at the ceiling, imagining every possibility. Maybe he ran out of gas. Maybe hecrashed. Perhaps he got caught up in something to do with the case—the one he wasn’t talking much about, which I knew was darker than he let on.

Maybe someone found out what he and Judd were doing, or perhaps he was hurt.

I reached for my phone, staring at the last message I’d sent him hours ago:You okay?

Still no reply, and I hated how the silence felt like an answer.

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