Chapter 28
Javier: You couldn’t have been more obvious.
Rey: What are you talking about?
I look up, knowing exactly what he’s talking about.
I didn’t like how he made her smile or how Chase looked at her.
Javier: You walked in there like you were going to kill Chase for talking to her. What’s really going on with you? You can’t confuse her like that, Rey. I know it’s none of my business, but if you think acting like a dog pissing on its territory every time someone comes sniffing around her is the way to go about it, I hate to say it, but all you’re going to do is push her away.
Rey: What makes you think that I wouldn't have?
Javier: I warned her about your stupid little rule. You can't beat up everyone who talks to her.
He’s right, but I don’t want to admit it.
Rey: She needs a car. I don’t think the one she has now is worth fixing.
Javier: You have millions in the bank. Go buy her one.
Rey: What if she won’t take it?
Javier: Did you ask her?
Rey: It’s complicated.
Javier: Let her go, Rey.
I pocket my phone and slide into the ring where Chase is ready to train.
Scanning the kitchen after my Saturday morning run, I don’t see Ari. Javier walks in and heads directly toward his room, not finding it weird that she isn’t sitting at the breakfast table or cooking up a storm.
Instead of heading to my room for a shower, I walk up the stairs, telling myself it’s to check if she is feeling alright. She’s been studying every day this past week. With Javier’s fight looming, I used the time to get him ready. Train him hard the same way I train right before a fight.
But I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. Like the air has changed, Ari’s strawberry smell has faded from the house like a distant memory.
She has been upset with me ever since the incident with Chase. I sent him a text to apologize. I didn’t do it for him. I did it for her.
I turn the knob of her bedroom, expecting to see her propped on the bed studying with her book open, a notepad on her lap, and a laptop open with the light from the screen shining on her gorgeous face, lost in thought, but the bed is empty.
Panic seizes my chest when I look around the room and find her stuff missing. I check the closet and en suite bathroom. I try to get air in my lungs, but all I can see are spots from breathing so hard.
I bolt down the stairs and scan the driveway, hoping that her Honda is parked like an eyesore, but that, too, is gone. She left. She left and didn’t tell me.
I pull out my phone and text her, hoping she’s okay. If she’s cold or, worse, her car has given up and she’s stranded on the side of the road. If she’s safe or hungry.
My brother appears at the front door, and I know it’s none of those things.
She’s gone.