Thirty – Harrison
THIRTY
HARRISON
I wake up to the lingering scent of Eliza on my skin and the sheets still warm from where her body had tangled with mine all night.
But the bed beside me is empty.
Still half-hard from the memory of her, I reach out instinctively—only to meet cool linen and silence.
Frowning, I check her room. The shower. The living room. Every space on her side of the penthouse.
She’s not here.
Where are you right now?
Eliza
Just out.
At four a.m.?
Eliza
Yes.
Can you turn your location on, so I can know where ‘out’ is?
Eliza
No.
I call her. She answers on the first ring.
“I’m fine, Harrison.”
But her voice betrays her—fragile, laced with a quiet sniffle.
“I’m totally fine. I promise.”
“Just tell me where you are so I can make sure… You should’ve said something before leaving.”
“I’ll be home in a few hours. After I finish thinking.”
The line goes dead.
I call back. Straight to voicemail.
Not a good sign—and it stirs something I’ve been trying to bury.
I doubt this will end the same way as before, but I can’t risk sleeping on it.
I call Henry.
“I need you to help me find Eliza.”
“I’ll meet you in the garage, sir.”