Page 168 of The Illicit Play
Slumping back against the doorframe, I try to figure out what the fuck happened and why the hell she left without even saying goodbye.
“Come on,” Zander softly coaxes me out of the doorway. “We’re all downstairs.”
“Why’d she go?” I frown at him. “Where’dshe go?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
Following my friend back downstairs, my mind starts racing to think logically, to problem-solve this so I can fucking find her!
She left the hospital.
Did she walk back to Football Frat or catch an Uber?
Her phone is obviously off if it’s not even ringing before going to voicemail. Or maybe the battery’s dead, which means maybe she couldn’t catch an Uber and she’s still walking home from the hospital. At this time of night. Fuck!
What was she wearing?
I think back and picture a massive hoodie. Maybe yoga pants.
Is she warm enough?
It might be spring, but the temperatures can still fluctuate. At night it can get down to thirty degrees at this time of year. Her skinny little body can’t handle that temperature. Not in a hoodie and yoga pants. She needs a jacket. A beanie.
My heart starts racing until I hear Zander’s voice cut through the noise in my chaotic brain.
“She’s taken Wily’s truck. At least that’s what we’reassuming.” Zander turns at the bottom of the steps. “It’s not in the driveway and his keys are gone, so she must have left with it.”
“Did anyone hear her go?”
Zander gives a pained frown, scratching the back of his head. “Nah. The only people here were Wily and Satch. They’ve been in his room all evening and were potentially… preoccupied… when she left.” He raises his eyebrows, and I feel sick.
She was sneaking out while they were getting it on.
Sneaking out while I was trying to deal with this Teah situation.
Fuck!
What was she thinking?
Why didn’t she wait for me?
I step into the living room. Wily’s assembled the troops, and everyone is there, even Sienna, who has a baby monitor clutched in her hand and a worried look on her face. She’s in her pajamas, Elmo’s red face grinning at me from the material around her legs. She’s sporting a massive Nolan U hoodie, which must belong to Zander. Next to her is Nylah, who is anxiously watching Wily as he talks to his parents on speakerphone.
“I can’t believe this,” his mother frets. “Why would she just leave without saying anything to anyone?”
“She’s probably catching a red-eye back to Chicago,” his father mumbles, and Wily stifles a groan while Mrs. Wilson balks.
“After everything she told us last night? Of course she’s not going back there! She better not be,” Mrs. Wilson growls. “If I ever get my hands on that Cleo girl, I’m going to ring her neck!”
Oh wow. She told them. She told them everything.
Is that why she freaked out and left?
When did she call them?
“Can’t you track her phone or something?” Mr. Wilson barks, clearly rattled.
Wrenching the phone out of my back pocket, I pull up the Find My app, which I set up after the liquor store incident, and try to do just that, but she’s not showing up anywhere.
