Chapter Eighteen
Tera
I glance at Asher, passed out on the bed, still fully dressed. He fell into an exhausted sleep somewhere around three in the morning. He has spent all that time on the phone with anyone he can think of to find his missing big sister.
Her best friend, Damon, has him blocked on his phone.
Suzette doesn’t know anything about what’s going on. She was just as shocked as Asher to hear her shop was closed. She promised him she was on her way to help with her husbands in tow and that she wouldn’t stop trying to reach her by phone or email.
Their mom has been trying to call and interrupt his desperate search, but he’s been ignoring her. When he called Daniella to question her, she admitted she didn’t call Adelaide about her move because she didn’t want extra drama. Maman tried to take the phone before he could ask anything else, so Asher hung up.
Sophia had more information.
She found a social media post about Adelaide that she didn’t want to talk about, no matter how much Asher begged. Something from her boyfriend. When Asher asked for the name since Addie is single, he was furious. Adelaide broke up with this William guy over a year ago, and Sophia didn’t know. When she heard that, she was the one begging. Asking Asher not to look up the post, whatever it was. She said it was clear the guy was trying to hurt her with it, but she was confused about why he waited so long after the breakup to act.
Then she admitted she showed it to their mother, who went insane over it and still hasn’t calmed down.
I’ve been off to the side, making notes on key factors to look up.
William, unknown last name, posted something months ago. Sophia found it and reported it back to their mom. Maman took her temper out on Adelaide. Ex harassed her via social media and in person. Shop closing. No contact since the post from either side of the family.
What’s brewing makes my stomach squiggle all around with nerves. This is bad. Here’s hoping that she’s off on an island training to come back fighting, main character style.
But she’s a confidant. I don’t know much about the tropes for that lifestyle. They're the sidekick without the usual hands-on approach. How could I let that kind of character slide through the cracks? I’m a dang sidekick. I should know better! I should have started looking up helpful hints when he first admitted she’s the only one who could convince him to talk to Max and Trevor openly.
I’ve been an oblivious idiot again.
I wait for Asher to wear himself out with questions before I start digging. I’m not sure he’ll want to see whatever started this.
I’m sitting on the floor with my laptop baby on the coffee table when Trevor comes out of his bedroom.
“Hey, babygirl,” he mutters, rubbing a hand roughly down his face. “You got anything?”
“Just starting,” I admit.
He sits behind me, putting his legs on either side of my body. I appreciate the subtle, affectionate support, especially when he begins massaging my shoulders.
I dive into the interwebs and don’t resurface for a long time. I’m sobbing quietly within ten minutes.
She’s been shouldering all this alone, while I’ve been so pleased with myself for helping out everywhere else.
One thing that is glaringly obvious about confidants? They suffer alone without complaint. Even with Asher not showing up, she never said a word or argued with him.
She just quietly packed up and disappeared. Just like I did.
But why? Doesn’t she know that Asher would kill for her? That William guy’s days are numbered.
Something’s up. I need to dig deeper.
There’s the footprint of a path to social media sites, but they’re all shut down. Addie went through everything and tried to wipe out her entire existence. I didn’t do any of that when I went through my troubles. I just stopped logging in. This is a level of dedication to disappearing that I never even thought about.
Everything becomes clear when I find the post .
It took me a little while. Mr. William Bennet removed the original post from his main profile, but I also found his secret account. Only one, with a bunch of followers based in some kind of underground tattoo community, still has it up.
I see one tiny picture with an accusation that speaks so many volumes, too agonizing to hear.
When I click on it to clearly see the picture, my heart sinks.
The scars are old. I morbidly zoom in to make sure and let out a sigh of relief. This is past pain. Past trauma. She got better. She stopped. But nobody knows how slippery the slope to depression is better than I do at this point. If she’s been dealing with all of this alone, are they still old wounds? Or did this complete jerkwad rip them right open again with some unwitting Broussard assistance?
I make the mistake of opening the comments section to look for a link to the website Sophia mentioned and try to keep my sobs quiet as I read.
The amount of pure disgust and threats is horrifying. It overwhelms any supportive comment by a landslide. I’m sure the haters found a way to get into Addie’s private messaging, too. That’s why her accounts are gone. She probably had to get a new number. I’ll look that up after I tape my broken heart back together.
It will destroy Asher to see how much she’s suffered in silence. She internalized all that pain and took it out on herself while she was helping him stand firm. How do I show him this or bring it up? No wonder Sophia was begging him not to look for it.
But how did the rest of the family see this and not act ? They saw this silent suffering and mocked it instead of reaching out to help.
I’m starting to get really mad.
I have to focus on finding answers before that deep dark well of depression starts sucking me in.
The link to the mysterious website has been taken down, even on this barely there post with Addie’s name but no tags. But good old William Bennet has been very vocal about a lawsuit for his post that’s stuck in court because of all the upheaval in the current justice system.
Investigating more leads me to a nonprofit organization called Survivors of Tragedy, solely owned and funded by Poe Richards, a survivor himself. Everything I see in it is positive support for any kind of traumatic event that’s happened in a person’s life.
Where there’s tragedy, there are scars. Emotional as well as physical. Just like Asher. It’s not hard to put the puzzle together.
If she was doing tattoos over scars, she had a wide-open playing field. Even though the organization spans the US, there are plenty of people in town to keep her afloat. Not that I know anything about tattoos or the money involved, but over a thousand people right here? Why did the shop close down?
My shoulders hunch when I look up the lease records and finances. She’s been slowly going broke. Not to mention, there’s a news article about someone defacing the shop after the online post. It names her personally with a picture of her, so everyone can see who the target is. It’s the first time I’ve been able to put a face to the name.
Addie’s bright smile and sparkling eyes are arresting. She’s beautiful. Long blond hair and eyes a brighter blue than any of her siblings. She’s unique in a way that stands out. From her gleeful expression in comparison with the reserved smiles of her family to her crazy raccoon t-shirt proclaiming her to be the best there ever was at knocking over trash cans. She has a lot of tattoos, too.
It’s so darn depressing to think of what she must look like now. If she’s falling apart even half as badly as I did, she’s going to be rough. And she has a lot more reason to break than I did.
I see she’s in therapy, but don’t touch the records. That’s just wrong. But good for her! She’s taking care of herself regardless of everything going on. This is the kind of information Asher can focus on. She’s taking action behind the scenes where no one can say anything about it. I like her twenty million times over already.
Now, where did she move to? Why can’t I find anything other than a plane ticket to LA in her name? She’ll be returning Monday, but I kind of want her here now . It’s selfish, but I want Asher to be able to see she’s ok. He’ll need it once he finds out what happened.
“What to do,” I whisper, my hands falling to my lap while I think.
“Let Asher decide.”
I startle, drawn out of my concentration by Trevor’s voice. My awkward twist to see him is all belly and no finesse. I forgot he was here. He must have been reading everything over my shoulder while I worked. He’s deep-breathing to keep himself calm.
“Is it wrong that I hope he wants to sick South and Amanda on her ex?” I ask with a cringe.
“If he doesn’t, I will,” he says with a grim smile. “Bedtime. It’s dawn. Suzette and her crew will be here tonight for the planning session on how to find her. I have a few questions to ask her before Asher trusts her too much.”
I’m ready to agree, suddenly made aware of my own exhaustion, when I hear Asher stirring around in the bedroom.
“Should I wait?” I whisper anxiously.
“Answers will hurt, but it will help, too,” Trevor sighs. “We’ve got him if he falls, babygirl. I promise. We’re in this together. Even if he is a dick.”