Chapter 38
Dante
I’m exhausted from a day full of running around, and all I can think about is getting home to unwind.
Dmitri and I spent way more time than usual going over band stuff today.
On top of everything we had scheduled to get done, we also spent hours trying to gauge the backlash from Theo’s on-air attack by Bradley.
There doesn’t seem to be any significant harm. Searches for the band name have skyrocketed, and we’re trending on every major platform. The overwhelming majority of posts support Theo, though plenty of people are questioning whether his breakdown was real or just a clever marketing ploy.
Are people really that emotionally blind?
We’re confident we can bounce back, and we developed a plan to navigate the questions that are already being sent our way.
Once that was solid, we looped Monica in on a call for her insight.
My brain is still spinning, and a headache creeps in behind my eyes as I pull into the driveway and climb the stairs to the front door.
The resistance of the knob makes me smile. Theo’s finally listening to me about locking up when I’m gone. I rap on the wood, ready for my ray of sunshine to be in my arms.
Seconds pass, and silence answers from the other side.
I slide my key in and push the door open. “Theo?” I call, the word hanging in the stillness. The house feels empty. There’s no movement or sound, just the low hum of heat blowing through the vents.
My heart kicks hard as I move through the living area into the hallways, peeking into bedrooms and shoving open bathroom doors. Even as I do it, I know he’s not here.
Adrenaline floods my veins as I thunder down the stairs to the garage, but his car is gone. I curse under my breath and sprint back upstairs.
Twice I try to call him. Twice it goes straight to voicemail.
Sam answers on the second ring, smile in his voice. “If this is about something else inflatable—”
“Theo is missing,” I cut in.
His tone changes instantly. “What do you mean, missing?”
“I was at the studio all day. I just got home and he’s not here.”
“Have you tried calling him?”
My voice rises as panic claws in. “Are you kidding me, Sam? Of course I fucking tried! It’s going straight to voicemail.”
“Did you guys get into a fight or anything?”
“Theo and I don’t fight,” I snap, frustration boiling over as I keep searching the townhouse for any clue.
“Ever?”
“Never!” I shout. He lets out a long sigh, and I force myself to lower my voice. “We don’t argue. We didn’t fight, and he never told me he was going anywhere. He always lets me know when he leaves.”
We brainstorm for a few minutes, grasping at ideas that all feel useless. Sam tries calling him, but there’s still no answer. He three-ways Devon in, and Devon tries too.
Nothing.
On my fiftieth pass through the house, something on the kitchen counter catches my eye. “Wait,” I mutter, snatching the piece of paper that must have fluttered aside when the door opened. My eyes race over the words, gut plummeting as my brain absorbs them.
Dante, please don’t be angry with me. I’m tired of waiting for life to catch me off guard, and I can’t cower at home anymore.
I can’t ask you not to worry, but I’ve got a plan, and I have to do this on my own.
Trust that I’ll be smart, and that I’ll come home soon.
I love you so much, with every piece of me. ~Theo
I read the note aloud to his brothers, and they curse in unison.
“What do you think he’s doing?” Sam asks, voice unnaturally quiet.
“Hopefully not making a huge mistake,” I whisper as the reality sinks in.
There’s absolutely nothing I can do.