Page 178 of Spicy Ever After
Other than warning me to be careful with her the day he met Hattie, Pop has said nothing else about Hattie’s neurodivergence. He just adored her on site. Welcomed her immediately.
Who wouldn’t?
But I shake my head at his question. “No, she’s…” How do I explain? “Yes, some things are harder for her than for you or me, but she’s not helpless. She’s far from it.”
Pop’s mouth scrunches up. “I have a smoke alarm that might say otherwise,” he says in that gruff gentle way I’m beginning to hate.
I drag a hand down my face, gathering patience. “That could’ve happened to anybody, Pop.”
He doesn’t speak a word. It’s only his face that says, But it didn’t.
And I’m fucked because talking to him only makes me feel worse. Because his take just makes my fears loom larger.
“I’m worried about her.” And admitting this out loud is like opening Pandora’s box. Panic just spreads its wings and beats higher and higher.
“Like what? If you said no one’s at her house, then don’t you think she’s with her family?” he asks, sounding calm and reasonable. “Safe and sound?”
I remember the look on Hattie’s mom’s face when I opened the door Sunday morning. Shock. Smothered outrage.
I have seen her face—that look—every day since I read that string of texts Monday morning.
She didn’t like seeing us together like that. That much was obvious. And maybe it wasn’t even personal. She may have felt that way if anyone opened the door to Hattie’s room.
“What if—” I rake my hands through my hair and grip at the roots. “I know—I know this is going to sound crazy. But what if they took her away?”
Pop blinks into a baffled expression. “Took her where?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Just—away.” I do sound crazy.
I’m sure of it when Pop snorts. “You think they’ve ferreted her away to a convent or something?”
“No.” I scowl at him. “Not a convent.”
But maybe or something.
I don’t voice this thought, but I take a stab at where she could be. Not for the first time.
A second home? Do they have one?
Another country?
No matter what, she wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Not when we kissed goodbye Sunday morning.
And that’s what has me so worried.
If she wasn’t planning on going away, then I have to wonder.
Did she have a choice?
The question is enough to drive me barking mad.
Because if she didn’t?—
“I need to get in touch with her sister.” I shove away from the table and stalk out of the kitchen. I crash through the screen door and pace the porch while I finish the message to Merrick.
Me: Merrick, this is Hattie’s boyfriend, Beck. We met at the wedding. I’m sorry to reach out like this while you and Margaret are on your honeymoon?—
But I’m wondering if either of you know where Hattie is. I’m worried. We were supposed to meet on Monday, but she canceled with an odd, middle-of-the-night text. She’s not answering texts or calls, and no one is home.
