Brooke
“You’re certain? Could you check again, please? Yeah…sure, I’ll hold.”
Three days. My fiancé, Brody, has been missing for three days.
I’ve checked every hospital within one hundred miles of our home, with family, friends, the sheriffs’ department, and the county morgue; but there has been nothing. Not a single sighting or word of him in three very long days. He isn’t answering his cell, responding to emails, or text messages. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the earth. No one has any idea where he is. I can’t even get a hold of the assholes that he went out for a quiet drink with on Wednesday evening. They’ve suddenly become mute about where my fiancé of eight years has gotten to.
Brody isn’t an a-hole like them. The sweet, kind, loving man that I know would call me to tell me where he is, reassure me that he’s okay.
Is he still alive? Is he lying in a ditch injured somewhere?
These unanswered questions going around and around in my head keep me awake at night. I’ve hardly slept, I can’t eat—I’m so worried about him. I feel so damn useless.
Tightening my hold around the photo frame with the picture of us from our senior prom, I send up a silent prayer that he’s okay.
Brody, where the hell are you, baby?
“Ma’am…Mrs. McAllister? Can you hear me, ma’am?” The reedy female voice at the other end of the line brings me back from the darkness that seems to consume more of my thoughts with each passing day that Brody is missing. For a moment, I think that they are speaking to someone else until I remember that I told them I was his wife so that they’d at least talk to me.
“Yeah...um, sorry,” I answer distractedly. “Could…you…could you repeat that for me, please?”
“I said that there is no one here matching that description, ma’am. I’m happy to take a telephone number and if Mr. McAllister turns up, I’ll notify you straightaway.”
Tears begin to track down my cheeks as yet another slight glimmer of hope is snuffed out. I’d managed to fend them off while I focused on my fruitless task of finding Brody.
“Are you still there, ma’am?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” My voice is muffled as I wipe my tears and snot away with my sleeve, trying not to sob down the phone as I give her my cell phone number.
“I’ll call you if I hear anything, Mrs. McAllister. I hope you find him.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, before pressing the button to end the call. Yet another dead-end in my search for my missing lover.
I must have fallen asleep as I wake up to find myself curled up on our bed, hugging the photo frame with one arm, and a wedge of damp tissues in my other hand, the empty box next to my head. I don’t remember how I got here. The last thing I remember was throwing my cell across the living room as I screamed and screamed, trying desperately to rid myself of some of the pain and frustration that I feel inside. Luckily for me, Mrs. Anderson, the little old lady to the left of us, is deaf and Lola, our neighbor to the right, works nights at the local strip joint.
The bright red light of my clock lets me know that it’s three o’clock in the morning. Carefully setting the picture of Brody and me on my bedside table, I drag myself out of bed and head to the living room to find my damn cell. The longer that I stay awake, the more time I can spend trying to find Brody. It takes me around ten minutes to find my cell, somehow it’s still in one piece. A quick glance at the screen tells me that no one has called. There are three text messages though. The first is from Lola, letting me know that she put the word out about Brody being missing and that she’ll let me know if she hears anything. The second is from Brody’s jerk of a brother, Caden, asking me if his older brother has turned up yet. The third is from my beautiful little sister, Hope—the reason why Caden will forever be known as a jerk to me.
I fire off a quick thanks to Lola, send Caden a curt no, and send Hope a slightly longer detailed message. Immediately my screen lights up with a new text message. Unfortunately, it’s from Caden.
Can I call you?
Closing my eyes, I count to ten to calm myself down before responding to the dickwad. Having a conversation with the boy who broke my sister’s heart is the last thing I need right now. I used to love Caden McAllister—loved him like a little brother since the day his family moved in next door to mine. Watched him grow up from an annoying little brat who adored my sister, to a boy who would walk over hot coals for her, to a guy who found fame and dumped her so that he could sleep around without a guilty conscience. The day he stopped being Caden McAllister and became Cade McCall was the day that little bastard became public enemy number one in my eyes.
Both sets of parents had hoped that us Elderhouse girls would marry the McAllister boys. I know that Brody’s parents, Dair and Judy, are still optimistic that Hope and Caden will reunite.
I’m not.
Hope and Caden’s car crash of a relationship is the least of my worries right now, the need to find his older brother is my priority. I don’t send the bitter message that I plan out in my head—one that involves a long diatribe about how he can go fuck himself, and to go back to that D-list actress he’s been hooking up with. Instead I keep it short and sweet.
Yeah, sure.
No matter what I feel for him, he must be worried about Brody, too.
No sooner have I hit send my cell starts to ring.
“Hey,” Caden says as soon as I answer.
“Have you heard from him?” I skip any pleasantries. I don’t want to talk to him any longer than I have too.
“What, no hello?” Even though his brother is missing, possibly dead, Caden sounds surprisingly unfazed.
“No, Caden, no hello.”
“Ooh my full name, must be in your bad book.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Easy, tiger, I just wanted to say hi.”
“I’m not in the mood to play nice with you, Caden. I’m going out of my mind with worry about Brody. So if you just called for idle chitchat, then I’m hanging up right now because I have nothing else to say to you.” Caden lets out a long, weary sigh that only adds fuel to my now white-hot anger. “Goodbye, Caden.” My finger hovers over the end call button, ready to hang up.
“Wait, wait, wait…please.”
“What?”
“I’ve heard from Brody.”
“YOU WHAT?” I practically shout down the phone at him. My heart seems to be beating out of my chest, elated that Brody has contacted someone. “When?”
“Ow, my ear.” Caden chuckles.
“Sorry, it’s just that…” I start to sob. “I’ve been so worried.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes. “It’s okay. Look, I’ll tell you what I know. He sent me a text.”
“You didn’t speak with him?”
“No, he just sent me a text yesterday.”
“Yesterday!” I interrupt him with an ear-splitting screech. “You heard from him yesterday and you only tell me now, asshole?”
Caden lets out another long sigh. “He asked me not to tell you, but I didn’t think it was fair. I know you must be worried about him.”
“Wait. He what?”
“He said not to tell you that he’d contacted me.” Caden sounds apologetic as he answers.
For a moment, I’m too stunned to answer, confused over why Brody would do that. He must know how worried I am. He must.
“You still there?”
“Why...Why would he do that?” I stutter.
“I don’t know, Brooke.” He pauses, and I can imagine Caden running his hands through his dark hair right now, like he does when he’s about to deliver bad news. Like he did when he broke Hope’s heart. “I’m sorry.”
“What did the message say, Caden?”
“Not a lot.”
“Well.” My teeth are gritted with frustration as I speak. “Could you please tell me the not a lot he said?”
“He just said that he’s okay, and to tell Mom and Dad that he’s fine, and that I’m not to tell you.”
“I’ll assume that that was the edited version, so now tell me everything that he said.” My anger starts to peak again. I know that the little rat is holding out on me, protecting his older brother as usual. I’ve known him since he was born. “You owe me, Caden. Just remember all the times I’ve kept your dirty little secrets. I’ve not breathed a word to anyone about what you’ve done. Just remember money talks and my tongue may suddenly become loose.”
“That’s a low blow.”
“Then spill.”
“How’s Hope?” he asks softly, changing the subject. If I could reach down the line and strangle the little bastard I would.
“Don’t you dare, Caden McAllister! Don’t you dare ask me about Hope, because you do not deserve to know a single thing about her life. As far as you’re concerned, you’re dead to her. Ask me again and I swear to God all the gossip columns will know what you did to her, you little shit. Every. Single. One.”
The silence that greets my little rant is deafening. I consider hanging up on him; I doubt that he would care.
“Hope still hates me, huh?” My heart twinges in sympathy at the note of sadness in Caden’s voice. “I don’t blame her. I hate me, too.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. What would I say? It’s his own fault, he brought it on himself, and he’s done nothing to make it right. I hate him, too. I don’t want to be talking to him—the asshole who hurt my sister.
I just want to know that Brody is safe.
“Caden, just tell me what Brody said. Please.”
“Okay, but only because I owe you.” He pauses. “And for the record, I think he’s being stupid and needs to talk to you.”
“Just. Tell. Me.”
“He said…uhhh…I’m going to put you on speaker, okay?” I can hear someone say hey in the background, followed by what sounds like a door being closed. “You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.
“Just spit it out, Caden.”
“Okay.” He lets out a long breath. “‘Hi Bro. I’m okay. Just need to think about shit with me and B. Not sure it’s working anymore, just don’t know how to tell her. I’ve taken a few days off work and headed to the cabin. Taking time to clear my head. Going to head home as soon as I decide what to do. Tell Mom and Dad that I’m okay. I know that she’ll be worrying, but please don’t tell Brooke that I’ve messaged you. Can’t deal with the crap that she’ll lay on me right now. If she asks, just tell her I’m okay. Brody.’”
They say that your world can come crashing down in the blink of an eye, mine just imploded.
“Brooke. You still there?”
I can’t breathe.
“Brooke, you okay?”
“Oh.” My chest feels tight; my throat is closing up. “Can’t…Can’t breathe.” I gasp as the world spins around me. I honestly think I’m about to die.
“Take deep breaths, B. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” Caden’s deep voice is strangely soothing as he encourages me to breathe with him. In and out. In and out. He keeps talking to me in that steady, slow, rhythmic way, and eventually my heart stops beating so hard and fast and my breathing returns to normal. “You okay?” he asks again gently.
“No.” I feel woozy, like I’ve drunk three bottles of wine, woozy. “What’s happening to me?”
“Sounds like a panic attack.”
A panic attack? I thought I was dying.
“I get them sometimes before I go on stage, especially after…” Caden hesitates, unwilling to continue. I hate the silence that follows. I hate the way I’m feeling right now. I’m scared and lost and I don’t understand what’s going on. The only person that can give me any answers doesn’t want to talk to me.
“Caden?”
“Yeah?”
“Did he say anything else?”
“No. I’m sorry, Brooke.”
“Not your fault.”
I hear a female voice call Caden’s name. He sounds annoyed as he answers. “Brooke, I’ve gotta go. If you need anything…just call. Text. Email. Hell, send a bat signal.”
“Thank you.” My voice is a mere whisper.
“See you, Brooke.”
“Cade? Can you pass on a message to Brody?”
“Sure.”
“Ask him why,” I say, ending the call.