Zoe’s mouth gaped, and for the first time since I’d met her, I saw what looked like pity flicker through her sharp brown eyes. “Well, yeah. He dropped off the next two weeks’ rent, took a bag and his guitar, and just walked out.”
I swallowed, bile turning my stomach and clawing at my throat. “He…” I gripped the doorframe to steady myself. “What time?”
Zoe scratched at her temple. “Ah, maybe around midafternoon?” Pausing, she forced out a gruff laugh. “Wait, so he didn’t tell you he was moving?”
“No.”
“I figured he might’ve found a better place to stay at. Yours even, seeing as you’re having a baby and all.”
I placed a hand over my stomach. “You knew?”
She rolled her eyes. “Girl, please. I’ve got more kids than I know what to do with. And I looked just like you’ve been looking these past weeks, scared as shit, every time I found out their deadbeat dad had knocked me up again.”
I shook my head, trying to clear the black invading my vision. “He’s gone.”
“Gone?” Zoe repeated, her thin penciled brows rising. “He didn’t look to be in a good way, that’s for sure.”
“He’s not.” The nausea grew talons. “If you hear from him, will you tell me?”
“Wait, so he for real just left you?” she asked. “Son of a bitch. Want me to burn his shit?”
I looked back at the boxes, the chasm named Everett cracking wide open. “No. Wherever he’s gone, he’ll probably come back.” Eventually. Even if eventually would no longer wait.
“Fucking hell.” Zoe sighed, marching into the room and stacking one box on top of the other. “Well, you better not take his stupid ass back when he does. I’ll carry these down for you.”
I smiled at the rare act of kindness, knowing it was from a place of solidarity. But I couldn’t stop the shock, the disbelief from seeping into each heavy step to my car.
My phone rang as I drove home, the film over my eyes making everything a blurred haze. I hit answer on the steering wheel, my heart hoping and praying for his voice.
“Stevie, fuck. Either answer the phone or just text me and tell me you don’t want to talk.” I said nothing, swatting tears as disappointment hit me like a tidal wave. “Stevie?”
“I’m here,” I strangled out. “Sorry.”
“Where are you?”
“Driving. I’m heading to the studio.”
Aiden paused. “You’re crying.”
“Seems to be a recurring thing lately.” I laughed, bitter and wet. “He’s gone. Again.”
Aiden cursed. “Don’t keep driving, please. I’ll meet you at your place.”
The sound of his keys jangling reached me. “No, I need to talk to them. I need to see if they know where he went.”
“Stevie,” he warned.
“I’m going, Aiden.”
Another round of cussing. “Fine. At least let me take you.”
“No. You’ve been dragged through this enough.” I sniffed. “Since you first fucking met me.”
“That’s my choice. Now go to your place, and I’ll meet you there. It’s dark out, and you’re in no state to be driving.”
Ugh. I almost screamed, but I did as he said and turned around.
I sat in my car until Aiden’s roared into the space behind, and then I got out and climbed inside as he held the door open for me.
“Are you sure you want to be around me right now?”
He clipped on his seat belt, then threw a U-turn and drove down the street. “Rain, hail, or shine, Petal.”
My lungs were about to collapse, my breathing erratic. Too fast and too shallow. “He left… he fucking left.”
Taking my hand, Aiden squeezed it. And I was thankful he didn’t say anything when he had a million reasons and a glaring, golden opportunity to say I told you so.
“What are you going to do when we get there?” Cars zoomed by on the highway, heading home from work, and on my thigh, his hand curled around mine.
“Try to get some answers.”
“Would they even know anything?” The question was hesitant, as though he could feel everything coiling inside me, winding tight and ready to explode.
“They’d have to. He was recording an album, for shit’s sake. He can’t just up and leave them without saying something to someone.”
Aiden chose silence for the remainder of the trip. When we neared the turnoff, I blinked back the burn in my eyes.
Aiden finally spoke, voice low. “He’s done this before.”
“This is different.” My own voice was quiet, weak. Defeated. “He’s usually leaving with the band, not running away from them.” From all of us.