Page 82 of The Hearts We Fumble
I don’t need to check the location Katie sent me because I already know where I’m going. Keaton. Alpha Nu. The one place she shouldn’t be.
The muscles in my jaw flex as I swipe to my contacts and hit Colter’s name. He picks up on the second ring.
“Yeah?”
“Are you home?” I growl, already shifting gears, my foot slamming against the pedal.
“Yeah. Beckham took the girls to the store to grab stuff for dinner. I’m just chillin’ with Hayes. What’s up?”
“I hate to do this, man, but I need to steal you for an hour.”
There’s a beat of silence before his tone sharpens. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“It’s Myla.” My grip tightens around the steering wheel. “Her friend Katie just called. They were at a party, and Myla’s gone. Katie can’t find her, and she has Myla’s fucking phone. I need to head there now.”
“Shit.” His chair creaks in the background like he’s already moving. “Yeah, come get me. We’ll ride together.”
My tires screech as I take the corner onto his street. “I’m pulling up now.”
The call ends just as I turn into their driveway, and the second my car comes to a stop, Colter and Hayes step onto the porch. Reed is right behind them, shoving his arms through his jacket as he skips the stairs entirely, landing on the sidewalk and jogging toward me.
Hayes and Reed slide into the back seat while Colter climbs into the passenger side. The second the door slams shut, I’m peeling out of the driveway.
“Where are we headed?” Reed asks.
“Keaton. Alpha Nu,” I grit out.
“What the fuck is she doing there?” Colter barks, his posture stiffening.
I cut him a sharp look. “We could ask your sister the same damn thing.”
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t argue. We both know the reason Wyatt showed up at my place a couple of weeks ago, pissed as hell that I might’ve ratted her out about her walk of shame. She wanted me to stay out of her business, but now I’m the one caught in the middle of the chaos again.
I don’t give a fuck if I break every speed limit getting there. If a cop pulls me over, I’ll tell him exactly where I’m going and why, and he can either lead the way or get the hell out of mine.
The second we reach the house, I don’t bother with a parking spot. I cut across the curb, pulling straight onto the grass, blocking half the sidewalk.
Drunk idiots spill onto the lawn, staggering out of the way as I slam my door shut. One guy throws his hands up, cursing like I almost hit him. I wasn’t even close.
Then I spot Katie.
She’s already running toward me. Her mascara streaks down her cheeks, and she has Myla’s phone clenched in her trembling hand.
“Where did you last see her?” I demand.
“She—” Her breath hitches, voice breaking. “She went to the bathroom. I waited for her, but I went looking when she didn’t return after thirty minutes. I checked everywhere, but she’s gone.”
A cold, tight feeling coils in my gut.
Without another word, I take off toward the house, Colter and Reed right beside me.
The second I step inside, the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke slams into me. The place is packed—shoulder to shoulder with bodies, music vibrating through the walls, alcohol sloshing from red Solo cups.
But I don’t give a shit about any of them.
I just need to find Myla. And God help whoever gets in my way.
The floor is sticky beneath my shoes, each step peeling away from the ground as I push through the crowd in the entryway. The air reeks of sweat, stale beer, and something sickly sweet.
