Page 56 of Choose Me

Eight days.

Eight long, fucking days.

That's how long she had been missing.

I couldn't eat.

I couldn't sleep.

I was consumed by the desperate need to find Ava and Everett. It was like they had disappeared off the face of the earth. Margaret knew where to drive to escape the cameras around the city. We had created a grid of a five-mile radius based on where she was last caught on camera and where she never reappeared. It had been a painstaking process, searching each block for any sign of them.

The worst part was not knowing whether she was dead or alive. I was so afraid that I would get a call that she was found dead in some shady part of the city, and I failed her. The guilt I felt for not keeping her safe, for betraying her trust, for the last conversation we had, was eating me alive. I spent hours combing over the grid map hanging on the wall of Amelia's living room. It looked like an explosion of papers covering almost every surface. I couldn't go into the guest room because Ava's scent hung in the air, on her clothing, and our sheets. It felt like somebody had ripped my soul in half, and I wouldn't give up until I had her back.

Whiskey and I had become close friends, and as the days passed, I drank more and more, trying to numb the pain and fear that threatened to suffocate me. The burn of the alcohol seemed to dull the ache in my chest, at least for a little while. I knew it was a temporary relief, but I clung to it nonetheless.

As I sat in the living room, staring at the map, I poured another glass. The amber liquid burned as it went down my throat, but I welcomed the sensation. I craved the intoxicating effect that helped dull the overwhelming feeling of despair that threatened to consume me. I returned to the map, my eyes scanning over every detail.

"Anything?" Amelia's voice broke through my concentration.

I shook my head, and she stood next to me. "You need to get some sleep. You're no good to Ava like this."

"Like what?" I snapped at her.

"Drunk off your ass! Have you stopped drinking since she went missing?"

"It's none of your business." I hissed.

"None of my business? How is my brother's girlfriend, who is carrying my niece or nephew, kidnapped, none of my business? Pull your head out of your ass, James. She could be dying somewhere or dead, and your stupid ass is sitting here drowning yourself in whiskey. You can't even help yourself, so how can you expect to help her?"

Amelia's words stung, but I couldn't deny the truth in them. I glared at her, my anger boiling over. "Don't you think I don't know that? Don't you think I feel guilty enough already?"

Amelia's expression softened, and she placed her hand on my shoulder. "I know you do, James. But you need to keep it together. We need to find her and Everett, and we can't do that if you're always drunk."

I nodded, feeling defeated. "I feel useless. I'm stuck in an endless nightmare I can't wake up from. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is her face, the hurt and betrayal that night at the banquet, and it cuts me like a knife." I admitted.

Amelia put her hand on my shoulder. "We all make mistakes, James. One thing I've learned about Ava is how hard she loves. She was no doubt hurt, and you will have to make amends for that, and you will have to give her time to figure out what she wants to do about that. But I will tell you one thing: she will forgive you. She always does. She loves you, and once she hears the truth, it will be water under the bridge. You have the chance to save her."

I sighed, feeling defeated. "I know," I said, my voice breaking. "I just...I don't know what else to do."

"Take a break. Go shower. Sober up. Come back here and look at everything with fresh eyes." Amelia said, her tone softening. "We'll find her, James. We'll bring her home."

I wanted to believe her, but the days had been long and the nights even longer. I didn't know how much longer I could keep going like this. I stood up from the couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion bearing down on me. I made my way to the guest room, the scent of Ava lingering in the air. It was almost too much to bear. I took a deep breath and walked into the bathroom, turning the shower on and taking in my disheveled appearance in the mirror. My hair was sticking out at all angles, my eyes were bloodshot, and the bags under my eyes seemed to hang like weights.

I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my skin. For a moment, I let myself stand there, feeling the water wash away the sweat and alcohol seeping out of my pores. I let my thoughts drift away, but then, the weight of reality crashed down on me. I started scrubbing my skin raw, hoping to wash the remnants of my guilt, my fear, and my helplessness away. I don't know how long I stayed in the shower, but eventually, I forced myself out. I dressed quickly and made my way back to the living room, where Amelia was pouring herself a cup of coffee. She handed me the cup, and I took a sip, giving her an appreciative nod.

"You look a hell of a lot better." She remarked.

"I feel a little better."

The front door opened, and Brock came in, looking just as exhausted as I was. He had been working overtime, casing out locations and coordinating with local law enforcement, taking whatever burden he could off me. That was just who he was. He had always had my back, and no words would adequately express my gratitude toward him.

"Hey." I chirped.

"Hey." He responded, closing the door and setting a bag of groceries on the counter, a grim expression on his face.

Amelia poured him a cup of coffee, and he accepted it with a small smile.

"Any updates?" I asked, hopeful.

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