Page 87 of Rival
Hanging up, I find my text thread with her. Instead of writing to her, I flick to her contact and select the call button. I listen to the ring as it cycles through five or six times, then a generic voice message fills my ear.
“Girl.” Wincing, I cough and try again. “Edith, I need you to call me. Got a call from dad that some shit happened at your house, and I need to know you’re alright.”
Ending the call, I send a quick message.
Call me, Edith. I need to know you’re alright. Please.
Going back to the call log, I dial her number again, then again, and another ten times before I give up. My next step is to find her, so I rush from my place without locking up and haul ass over to her house. Maybe she’s gone back by now and I can make sure she’s alright and we can have a talk about the pregnancy. The one I should have been present for from the start.
Another smile tugs at my lips, and I laugh.Jesus Christ. I never thought in a million years I’d ever father a kid. Didn’t seem to be something I’d find written in my cards, so I brushed the idea away years ago. I’ve dated women and fucked them, but never met one I could imagine having a kid with.
Fresh thoughts of raising a little boy alongside Edith have an unfamiliar, but pleasant feeling weaving through me and connecting pieces together I never realized were missing. I’ve been broken and just getting by, pretending it didn’t affect me.
My anxiety spikes when flashing lights draw my eye as I stop at the end of her drive. Without shutting off my truck, I run over to one of the cops writing on a pad as he leans over the top of his squad car.
“Hey, I’m the neighbor. What’s goin’ on? Ya’ll got Edith Hughes in there?” I’m vibrating in place as my eyes dart over to the house, hoping to see her.
The cop side-eyes, then jerks his chin toward the house. “She’s not in there. Took off a bit ago. Any idea where she’s at? Heard she might be just as banged up as her father.”
My shock must be evident because I can only gape, then shake my head. With a crack to my voice, I admit, “G-Got no idea where she’s at, but I’ll go find her. What’s happenin’ with him?”
He seems frustrated as he slaps his book shut and turns down the volume on his radio. “Taking him in for the night to get his injuries treated and give him a chance to sleep off the booze. If you find Edith, have her come down to the station if she can, or at least call, would you?”
“Yeah,” I say, distracted as a few more officers start to head out of the house, tugging a sluggish and bleeding Clayborn behind them. I don’t give two shits about the blood on his face, but when my eyes fall to his uncuffed, bloodied hands, they turn to slits and I see fucking red.
Bolting forward, I rush toward him. “Thefuckdid you do to her, you piece of shit?” I’m screaming at him and two of the officers step between us, preventing me from getting any closer.
His words are slurred as he taunts me. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,neighbor. Now, get the fuck off my land and keep your cock away from my daughter. You’ve already dirtied her enough with your hands.”
I barely catch the way a few of the officers eye him, not happy with how he’s speaking about his family, but I pay them no mind. “If you—”
“If Iwhat?” he spits out. “What could I have done that’s any worse thanyou?”
Two hands yank me back and I attempt to throw them off me, but their grip holds enough warning that I force myself to take a step back. With narrowed eyes, I watch as he’s helped into the back seat of one of their cars, then handed a bag in case he needs to puke.
Whirling on the first cop who decided to stop me, I jab a finger at him. “Ya’ll better find somethin’ to charge that bastardwith. From what I hear, he spent the mornin’ beatin’ up his daughter. Hispregnantdaughter.”
“I need you to calm down. We got the story already. We’re just waiting to hear from the man who didthat”—he jerks his thumb toward Hughes—“to his face. Nothing more we can do right this second. Call me if you have any information.”
Handing me a card, I stand in the middle of Edith’s drive and watch as three police vehicles, one containing Clayborn, disappear down the road. Pushing the card into my pocket, I force my feet to take me back to my truck.
Once I’m behind the wheel, I stare out the windshield for a minute, wracking my brain with ideas of where she could have gone. Turning in the same direction the cops went, I begin hours of driving around town, stopping to ask anyone I see walking around if they’ve seen her.
Eventually, I find myself in front of the only fucking bar in this town and decide I need to calm myself down. It’s already turned dark, and I can’t imagine Edith is still roaming around. During my drive, I did swing back to her house almost every hour, knocking on the door and praying she’d answer.
She never did.
Walking into the poorly lit place, I decide I’m also going to celebrate the fact I’ve got a baby coming in the near future.Fuck, she can’t be more than a few weeks along!
Wondering if she’s feeling okay outside of the pain I’m sure she’s in from her dad’s assault, I make my way to the end of the bar and find a seat.
My eyes skim the place, a few patrons quietly drinking, scattered around grungy tables and sticky floors. I note that Jaxon Thorton is here, looking pissed off. I’ll go talk with him in a few once I’ve got my order. I don’t care if he’s in the mood or not. He was heading up the job she volunteered at, so maybe he’s seen her.
Which reminds me, I should have gone to the pastor’s house.Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll go to them after checking to see if Edith made it home.
The bartender draws my attention and I catch sight of Griffin Graham at the other end of the bar, nursing a glass of brown liquor. As soon as our eyes meet, I surge to my feet.
My booming voice catches everyone’s attention, but I ignore them. Pointing a finger at him, I march forward just as he leaves his chair, getting to his feet.
