Chapter 40
Lincoln's POV
“Later Tom,” I call out.
Not even slowing down, I walk right past Sarah.
Did she say something? I don’t even know, but honestly, it doesn’t matter.
It almost feels alien, Sarah not coming with me or saying anything to me while I leave. I must’ve really pissed her off.
The air is cool but refreshing.
There's something about stepping out of the building and feeling the cold night air from the sky actually hit my face, it wakes me up, clears my head. I look down at my phone to see if Gabby texted me, only to find two messages back-to-back from her.
Gabby: home.
Gabby: Morris fed. Litter changed. He’s watching cat videos on the sofa and I gave him my shirt and yours for scenes
Confusion knits my brow as I stare at the texts.
Scenes?
What the hell does that mean?
Oh.
She meant scent.
For some reason, this makes me smile.
But why is she telling me this? Maybe she’s going to sleep early.
By the time I push open my front door and head inside, my nerves are sparking with anticipation. I miss her.
“Gabby. I’m home. Hey buddy!” I say, picking up Morris in my arms and kissing him on the top of his head.
“You are getting to be a very gigantic cat,” I tell him as I amble through the house, looking for Gabby.
She’s not in her room and she’s not in mine. Where the hell is she?
Grabbing my phone, I shoot her a text.
Me: Where u at
No response.
That’s very weird.
It’s very late and she didn’t say she was going anywhere.
When I check the surveillance cameras, I see that she did indeed leave at some point, taking a shuttle.
But I have no idea where she went and she didn’t volunteer the information.
She probably dropped Morris off here because of the argument we had earlier.
Suddenly, now I wish she’d taken him.
The last thing I want to do is stress about this right now, so I take a shower, shave, wash my hair, and then dress into something comfortable.
Sitting on the couch, I type some last-minute stuff on my laptop for work.
The phone vibrates and when I lift it up, it’s Sarah.
Fucking hell.
There it goes again.
She’s going to call me, I know it. Rolling my eyes, I wait for it, and like clockwork, as I snap my fingers, my phone starts ringing.
There’s a quick pulse in my chest when I think, for just a split second, that it could be Gabby calling, but of course it’s not.
“Hello?” I say tiredly.
“You’re ready to pull that stick out of your ass?” Sarah says over the phone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really you don’t know what I’m talking about? The way you were so nasty today you must have a stick up your ass. I want to give you some space so I figured it was enough time that you should’ve let the shit fall out by now or reabsorb whatever it is you have hanging there.”
A bubble of laughter escapes me.
“You sure have a way with words,” I muse.
“I have a way with my mouth too. Something you seemed to have forgotten.”
“I remember,” I huff playfully as my fingers type away before closing my laptop and trying to quell the anxiety that I feel.
“Do you wanna come over?”
The hesitation honestly baffles me because it’s not like I’m even considering going over there.
OK maybe a little bit, because honestly, I need a distraction, or maybe that’s just what I’m trying to tell myself because that’s what I’m used to.
But my heart isn’t in it. My body still remembers that I get the tiniest bit of relief from coming inside of Sarah.
But that’s not what I want.
And I can’t talk to Sarah about what’s bothering me.
“I’m tired Sarah and I told you this between us… we need to chill.”
“You’re not married though. And you’re not marrying me either duh. You’re the one making everything weird Lincoln. Is Gabrielle there right now?”
I honestly don’t want to answer that question.
“Sorry I got to go Sarah.”
I hang up the phone before Sarah can even protest.
I look at the time on my screen: 2:47 a.m.
Where the hell is Gabby?
Texting her again, I pause and then opt to call her instead.
The phone just rings. No answer.
“What the fuck,” I whisper under my breath, dialing the number again and pacing around my living room.
“Pick up. Pick up,” I whisper, pacing faster.
Nothing.
“What the fuck is going on?” I hiss through my teeth.
Okay then, let's send another text:
Me: YO. Are you good?
No answer.
3:07 a.m. in the morning. Still no answer.
4:17 a.m.
No reply.
No Gabby.
Should I call her again?
It's going to make me look desperate, but that's how I feel, because anything could happen. What if she's in trouble?
With shaking fingers, I dial her number again. It rings twice and goes straight to voicemail.
The only thing I can do is sit on the couch and then fall asleep, even with all the worry.
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