Page 50 of Royal
Glancing past her, I wave at the other girls. “Hey. Anyone seen Echo around?”
There’s immediate chattering again and a lot of head shakes.Great.
“Hey, Royal, is it true you were the one fighting the night we sent Echo as our cage girl?”
I don’t even know who asked the question, but I grab the back of my neck with one hand, tugging on it as I look up at the crowd, then slowly nod my head.
“Oh my god, Royal, what are you doing here?” A girl I should probably recognize—but totally don’t—makes her way through the crowded entryway. Her face is lit up, and she’s positively gushing with excitement. I can’t for the fucking life of me remember her name, though.
Cassie glances at her. “Oh good, Freya. You’re here. Maybe you’ll know something. He’s looking for Echo.”
Her brows dart up. “Oh? Hm. Well, I know she had class last night, but I haven’t seen her since then. I told her I’d see her when she got back, but then I never did. She just kinda disappeared.” She shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. “I thought maybe she was withyou.”
What the fuck? No way am I giving this nosy bitch any info because she seems like the sort who gets off on knowing everyone’s business. “Nah. I just wanted a word with her. I’m sure I’ll find her. Thanks.” I pivot on my heel and bound down the stairs of their porch while the volume of overly-curious discourse in their house multiplies by a million. I kinda hate that I’ve given them something to gossip about. I don’t need people talking about me.
There’s only one more place to look for her, and I don’t want to go there any more than I wanted to go to TZE.
Back at SIN, I bolt into the house and tear through, paying no heed to the strange looks I’m getting. I need a fucking car. I don’t have one of my own, so I need either Beckham’s or Wilder’s. I poke my head into every room I come to until I finally catch a glimpse of Wilder out back, shooting hoops. As I slam out the back door, he nails one basket after another, snatching up the ball as it drops through the hoop and going again. Sweat pours off him. He has the most singular focus I’ve ever seen. Apparently, today has been one ofthosedays.
When he spots me, he stops, ball clutched between his hands. His face is stony, and I swear he must be working through some shit of his own, but I don’t have time to hold his hand. He probably would tell me to fuck off anyway. He gets like that when he’s sorting through something.
He eyes me, slowly dribbling the ball. He waits me out, knowing I’ll say whatever I need to when I’m good and ready.
My chest squeezes hard. I hate asking people for anything. “Could I borrow your truck?”
He frowns. “Sure. What’s going on?” His brow furrows with the question.
“I—” I stop to swallow, half-worried he’ll say no if I tell him why I want it. Finally, the overwhelming need to find Echo wins out. “I’ve been looking for Echo all damn day. Thought I’d ride around to see if I could find her.” My tongue darts out to dampen my lips. “Was she in art class today?” I never saw her enter the building, but there’s always a chance she slipped by me.
He blows out a hard exhale, turns, and shoots at the basket again. The ball goes through the net with a faintswish.“Nope. She left me high and dry on the partnered assignment, too.”
That makes me feel better—the fact that she hadn’t actively dodged me, not the art project because that sucks for him. “Have you texted her today?”
In an explosive move I didn’t see coming, he chucks the basketball as hard as he can at the back of the house. It smacks into the stone and bounces back, sailing past both of us before rolling onto the grass.
“Is that a yes?” I stare at him, expressionless, my jaw twitching.
He places his hands on his hips, his gaze shifting to the ground in front of him. He nods. “I did when she didn’t show up to class. And last I checked she hadn’t responded. She confirmed last night that she’d gotten home safely and was with her sister. That was the last text she sent.” Digging into his pocket, he comes up with the key fob for his truck. “She might just be busy, you know. Or need a fucking break.”
He pitches the key at me, and I catch it with one hand. “Maybe. But I still don’t like it. It’s the third day of class. Seems off.”
“Could be. But has her first week at Kingston University been a bed of roses?” His brow arches. “I guarantee you it hasn’t been. It’s been a straight suck.” He swipes at his sweat-coated forehead with the back of his forearm.
“Some people deserve what they get.”
Wilder shakes his head, then jogs over to retrieve the ball. Back in front of the hoop, he dribbles and shoots. “You aren’t wrong about that,” he mutters.
I narrow my eyes on him, but he’s back to shooting hoops at a furious pace. I have a feeling that his last statement had nothing to fucking do with Echo. “Thanks for the truck. I’ll be back in an hour or so, I guess.”
He nods, not even turning around as he sends the ball sailing through the air again.
Key in hand, I jog back through the house, receiving more curious looks from our housemates, but I don’t have it in me to stop and talk. Don’t need to waste time explaining my shit to any of these people. Most especially not to Davis—and that motherfucker sits there staring at me. Another fight would ensue if I told him I was hunting down his sister, and nobody has time for that.
I click the button that unlocks Wilder’s big-ass truck and in two seconds flat, have it in drive, and hit the gas. The trip to her house—next to my old house—doesn’t take long. Within minutes, I pull the truck over at the curb between the two houses and let the engine idle for a full minute before I suck in a breath and get out.
There’s a reason why I looked everywhere else first. Coming back here a second time in two days is fucking insanity. It won’t be long before people start asking questions. My body does a full shudder, and the sensation of eyes on me makes me want to turn around and get the fuck out of here. But I don’t. My need to find Echo and set things straight with her overrides every other urge I have. I chuckle internally. Actually, I’m unsure whether I mean to set things straight or teach her a lesson. Possibly both. She knows I’m aware of her friends, Benneti and Emory. She knows I’ve been watching her since the moment she showed her face. So, instead of leaving, I walk up to the Maddens’ front door and knock.
I wait, sweat trickling between my shoulder blades and down my back. Why’s it gotta be so fucking hot even after the sun goes down? I blow out a breath and lean to the side, taking a quick peek into their home through the window next to the door. There’s nothing to see but the arm of a couch off to the right and the hallway that leads back to the kitchen and dining area at the rear of the house. It’s all very familiar to me yet seems so foreign. Like it’s somewhere I frequented in another lifetime.
