Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
WARRICK
The line rings and rings and rings, eventually connecting to a robotic voice that prompts me to leave a message. Where is she? What is she doing that she can’t answer my call or reply to any of the messages I’ve sent her since our brief conversation this morning?
Pulling the cell away from my ear, I find Knight’s number and hit call. He answers on the second ring.
“Warrick.”
“Brother, I’m sorry to call, but has Octy spoken to Verity at all today?”
Knight goes silent for a moment, then a second later, he speaks.
“According to Octavia, James added Verity to the group chat they have with the other women and Henry, but she hasn’t responded, or even viewed any of the messages yet.
Octavia gave Verity her cell number yesterday, but she hasn’t reached out today.
Is she okay? Do you need me to call around to check on her? ”
“No, not right now. She could be up at the Barnetts’. I’ll give Huck a call. Thanks.”
“Okay. If you need us to make contact or check on her, just let me know.”
“Will do. Thanks, brother.”
Ending the call, I pull up Huck’s number next and hit dial.
“Hey, Warrick,” he eventually answers.
“Hi, Huck, I’m sorry to bother you, but Verity isn’t answering her cell. Is she at your place?”
“No. Cora went down there to bring her here for dinner, but when she got there, your girl said she’d already eaten and was planning to have an early night. She told Cora that she was looking for a job so she could afford an apartment.”
“The fuck?” I mutter.
“She asked Cora if anyone here would be willing to give her a ride down to town next time they head that way.”
The angry guttural sound that escapes from my lips is definitely not words, but Huck still understands.
“I think it might be time to spell out that she’s your bro, because it sounds like she could be fixing to run.”
“Did Cora ask anyone about giving her a ride?” I growl.
“No. She told me that she was worried Verity would disappear before you and her had a chance to talk. But I know my wife. If Verity asks again once you’re home, she’ll help her get that ride.
Cora asked her to have dinner with us one night before you get back, and Verity told her she had plans with James one night and Octy the other,” Huck says.
Scoffing lightly, I shake my head. “I just spoke to Knight, and apparently James added Verity to the group chat, but she hasn’t even opened the messages, and Octy gave her her cell number, and Verity hasn’t reached out.”
Making a sound like he’s sucking air between his teeth, I can feel Huck’s thoughts without him having to say a word. My woman is a runner. Or she’s not my woman at all, and everything I thought we got figured out before I went on shift didn’t go the way I interpreted it.
“Okay, thanks, Huck.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have no fucking clue,” I admit.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I say with a dry laugh, ending the call, before I pull up Verity’s number and hit call again. Just like earlier, the line rings and rings until it connects to voicemail. Thinking back to this morning, I try to remember exactly what she said when we spoke.
She was quiet, not chatty like she had been the previous day. Was I so excited to hear her voice that I missed something? Now that I recall the conversation, her answers had been short, maybe even cold. Fuck. Did something happen and I’m just oblivious?
Could I have done something? Said something? Forgotten to say something?
Calling her again, I grit my teeth when it connects to her voicemail for the third time.
She could be asleep, but it’s not late, certainly too early for her to go to bed, unless she’s ill.
But if she was sick, Knight and Octy would have mentioned it after they saw her yesterday, and Cora visited her today too and never said anything to Huck.
Maybe she’s just tired. Two months of sleeping on the hard ground and then however long sleeping in a car before that must have been hard on her body. She could just be doing what I asked and taking some time to recuperate.
Only I don’t believe that. She’s distancing herself from me, I just don’t know why.
After dinner, I retreat to my bunk, avoiding the rest of my team as I try to fall asleep, but my mind is too busy wondering if she’s left, if she’s already gone, and I just don’t know it yet.
When the alarm to alert us of a call-out shatters the silence of the night, I’m grateful for the distraction.
The call-out is fairly simple, a car accident only a few miles away from base.
A tired driver had fallen asleep at the wheel, then lost control and ended up smashing into a tree.
The leaked fuel had caught fire, but luckily the driver was able to escape and get safely enough away from the flames.
By the time we got there, the car was halfway to a burned-out shell, but the fire was easily controlled with some of the powered flame suppressant we use on wildfires.
“You okay, brother?” Buck asks as we watch the ambulance whisk the frightened, but hopefully completely fine, driver away to be checked out at the clinic in town.
“No,” I admit honestly. “Something is up with Verity, but she isn’t answering the phone when I call, so I have no idea what’s going on. She asked Cora if there was anyone who could give her a ride into town. I don’t even know if she’s still at the house or if she’s already gone.”
“How tired are you?” Buck asks.
“I’m fine.”
“Then once we get back to base, drive back to your place and check up on her. I can’t lose you for more than a couple of hours, but it’ll give you a chance to check she’s there and okay.”
“Nah, Chief—” I start.
“Warrick, you’re no good to me distracted. Go and check on your woman.”
On the ride back to base, I talk myself in and out of going to see Verity half a dozen times. In the end, it’s Oz who finally pushes me into it.
“Can you really last the rest of our shift without knowing if she’s there?” he asks, clearly having listened to my conversation with Buck.
Marching into base, I grab my car keys, then carefully drive down the mountain toward my house.
The sun is rising as I slow to a stop on the street and stare up at the dark house in front of me.
I feel like a fucking pussy, but I’m scared to move, because what the fuck am I going to do if she’s not here?
I force myself to get out of the car and unlock the front door. Pausing in the doorway, I scan the dark living space for any sign of her, but the room looks exactly like it did when I left. Padding into the kitchen I spot my note, the key, and her cell on the kitchen counter just how I left them.
What the fuck? Bringing the screen to life, I glance at the battery.
Ten percent. Has she just left it down here and forgotten to charge it, or has it been here the whole time?
She answered my call yesterday morning and the day before, but she hasn’t replied to any of my messages, and the ones I sent last night haven’t even been read.
Alongside my texts, there’s notifications of dozens of other messages in the group chat Knight told me James added her to, as well as texts from Cora and James. She clearly hasn’t looked at any of her messages either.
Just like the living room, the kitchen is spotless, with no sign of her having used any pans or cooking utensils.
She could just be tidy, but when I open the refrigerator—that I made sure was stocked before I left for work—it’s still full.
If she’s been eating three meals a day like I told her to, there should be more food gone.
Even the bottles of water and juice I got for her don’t look like they’ve been touched. What the fuck is going on here? Has she not eaten or drunk anything since I left?
Knight made her a sandwich when he and Octy visited the day before yesterday, but what has she eaten since then? When we spoke yesterday morning, I asked her if she’d eaten breakfast, and she told me she had. Was that a lie?
Glancing at my wrist, I sigh. It’s barely six a.m., too early to wake her up when I’ve been telling her to make sure she gets plenty of sleep. But I have to be back on base in an hour and a half, so I can’t wait for her to wake up on her own.
Climbing the stairs, I freeze outside her closed door, my arm lifted, my fist poised to knock.
The moment I touch this door, I’ll have my answer.
If she’s here, then clearly something has happened between the day I left for work and when she made pancakes while I talked her through the recipe over the phone and now, only I have no idea what.
Or she’s gone, slipped away between Cora inviting her for dinner and now.
“Fuck,” I hiss, then rap my knuckles against the wood, swallowing the lump of anxiety that’s formed in my throat.
When there’s no answer, I knock again. “Verity?”
The sound of someone moving in the bedroom is sweet relief. She’s here. I had no idea how scared I was that she’d left until I heard her, but now I need to know what’s wrong and how to fix it in the next hour and ten minutes before I need to go back to work.
The sound of shuffling footsteps are followed by the door to her bedroom being opened an inch. “Warrick?” she says, her voice thick with sleep.
“Amore mio,” I sigh, my shoulders slumping at the sight of her. But then I take in her appearance. She’s dressed. Fully dressed in denim shorts and a top that might once have been tight but now sags a little on her malnourished frame.
“What’s going on?” she asks, reaching back for something and hooking it over her shoulder.
“What’s that?” I ask, already knowing the answer before she speaks.
“You want me to leave, right?” she says, like she’s confident she already knows the answer.
“What the fuck, Verity? No. I don’t want you to fucking leave,” I growl frustratedly.
“Then…” She trails off, her cheek marked with creases from where she’s been asleep with her face resting in the pillow.