Page 82 of Once Yours (Love & Wine)

“Little brother!” she eventually shouts, picking up on the third ring. “What’s happening?”

“Is Tess with you?” I ask.

Hannah scoffs. “What, no hello, no how are you?”

“Hannah, I don’t have time for this shit, is Tessa with you?”

“Whoa, Dylan, okay, settle down. No, she’s not with me. What’s going on, is everything okay?” she asks, her tone changing from annoying big sister to worried big sister.

I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “I can’t find Tessa,” I start. “She isn’t returning my calls or texts and I have no idea where she is.”

I hear the sound of Hannah blowing out a breath through the phone. “Okay, shit. That seems kinda weird.”

“It is fucking weird,” I snap, frustrated at whatever the hell is going on right now. “She doesn’t do this. She always responds, always…” I trail off, suddenly remembering a time when she didn’t respond. When she stopped answering my texts, didn’t return my calls and wasn’t at home when I dropped by.

Surely that’s not what’s happening here?

I mean, she isn’t ghosting me is she. Again?

“Okay, and I’m guessing you’ve checked at work?” Hannah now asks, distracting me from the feeling of dread that’s suddenly coursing through me.

“Yeah, Jack said she left nearly an hour ago.”

“Fuck,” she breathes through the phone. “You don’t think… Shit, you don’t think she’s had an accident or something?”

I exhale, not knowing what would be worse, an accident or the idea that she’s just completely ghosted me again. As though the past few months have meant nothing to her.

But just as soon as I think that, I want to punch myself in the face because fuck me, of course an accident would be worse, jesus.

“I really fucking hope not,” I snap through the phone. “But how the fuck do I check?”

“I don’t know,” Hannah admits. “Maybe call the police, the hospital? That’s what they do on TV.”

My eye roll is automatic, because even though I have no fucking clue what to do if you’re wondering if someone has been in an accident, I do know TV is not exactly realistic with that shit.

“Yeah, okay, let me try that,” I say, having no other options at this point.

“You want me to help?” Hannah offers and I know if I said yes, she would. “I’m not working, so I can come up if you need me to?”

I exhale, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Thanks, Han, but I’m good. I’m just gonna wait at her place and maybe try your suggestion.”

“Okay, well keep me posted, yeah?” she asks.

“Yep,” I say with a nod, anxious to get off the phone now so I can try the hospital or police or whatever. “I will. Later.”

I hang up before she replies and then call up google as I search for the number of the surrounding hospitals, all while nausea churns in my gut, my heart pounding in my chest as I force myself to take a deep breath so I don’t totally lose my shit.

Fuck, please don’t let anything have happened to her.

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