Page 47 of Wish You Once More
Mechanically, I chewed on my toast, which had turned to cardboard. I couldn’t really say no to Melinda, I mean, there were bigger things at stake here than my pride.
“Sure, I can try,” I said.
Her entire body seemed to lighten at my agreement, as if someone had taken a weight off her. “Ohmigosh, Bree, thank you! You don’t know what this means to us.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Will you call him now?”
“Um, sure.” I pushed my knife and fork together, unable to eat any more. Fumbling around in my bag, I found my phone.
Melinda’s gaze was fixed firmly on me, as I unlocked it and found Mat’s number. My fingers shook as I stabbed the call button. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, wanted to ask…
I pressed the phone to my ear, holding my breath.
Voicemail. It went straight to voicemail.
Ending the call, I put the phone on the table. “He’s not answering,” I said.
“You didn’t give him long enough to answer. Can you try again?”
Putting the phone on speaker this time, so she could hear, I dialled again. When she heard Mat’s voice saying he couldn’t come to the phone, she shook her head.
“That’s the same response we’ve been getting.”
“Have you tried contacting him through social media?”
“Jonny tried, but it seems Mat’s blocked both of us. The only way we could is by going through Trash Gun’s official channels, but that seems a bit much.” Melinda stared at me. “You will try again later though, won’t you?”
Automatically, I nodded. “Of course.”
“Here, let me give you my number.” Melinda took my phone and tapped her details into the contacts. As she finished, her own phone rang, and she unearthed it from her bag. “Henry’s nursery.” She waved the screen at me as she stood up. “I need to take this.”
“Sure.” I nodded.
Her hand gripped my shoulder. “Please let us know when you get to speak to Mat. It means so much to us, all of us.”
I didn’t have the chance to reply before she dashed out of the cafe.
Alone again with my thoughts, I mulled over what Melinda had asked me to do. She had, at least, given me the answer as to why Mat had disappeared without a trace. Family feuds tended to do that.
The blank phone screen taunted me. I had to try again, not only for their sake, but for my own.
For the third time, I dialled Mat’s number, only to be met with the same bland voice message. This time, however, I spoke.
“Mat. It’s Bree. I need to talk to you. Call me as soon as you get this.”
Then I hung up.
All I could do was wait.
23
Mat
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” snapped Scott. “You’ve been worse than useless since you got back from that fucking festival.”
I didn’t grant him a verbal answer, instead making a crunching chord with my bass.
We were rehearsing. We’d hired some studio space on the outskirts of the city, which we’d used before. I didn’t have a clue what we were rehearsing for, but Scott had demanded we practice.
However, what Scott said was true.
