Page 112 of False Comeback

Holt sniffed and shrugged, sulkily inspecting his fingernails again. “S’okay. Sorry for calling you a stubborn little shithead.”

“There we go,” Taylor said cheerfully, taking Holt’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

I licked my dry lips and croaked, “Holt, seriously. It just feels like something is wrong. Please call him first thing.”

“I will.” Holt was looking at me like he’d finally realised I wasn’t just being a hothead. I was genuinely worried. He winced, expression growing a little guilty. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to brush you off, Vince. It just… It really hasn’t been that long, and it’s not like he’s missed any matches. I really think he’s just taking the weekend off.”

“Then just call him to confirm that,” I said huskily, feeling ill when I added, “Maybe you’re right—maybe he’s not answering because it’s me.”

Holt winced again. “Sorry. That was a dick thing to say.”

“It’s fine.”

Had this happened a couple of weeks earlier, I would’ve agreed with him. And there was no way I would’ve cared if Crossbody hadn’t shown up for work for a couple of days.

I probably would’ve been glad.

Now, that made a horrible sense of guilt churn in my gut. I’d been such an asshole to him for so long. And he was so…

Sweet. Gentle. Affectionate and warm. Full of insecurities, just like anyone else. With problems and sore spots like the rest of us. Nothing like I’d assumed for years.

And I missed him. It had been two fucking days, and I missed him.

—

“Have you tried calling him yet?” I asked Holt the moment he stepped into his office on Sunday morning, where I was impatiently waiting. I was pretty sure I’d been the first one in the building.

He jumped, clutching his chest and almost spilling his takeout cup over his front. “Jesus, Vince.”

“I tried calling him three more times and he didn’t answer. He hasn’t answered any of my texts either.”

I hadn’t slept at all. I had no idea if I was massively overreacting, like Holt had said last night, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He would’ve texted me back otherwise, if nothing else. The fact that he’d gone AWOL from work was seriously out of character.

“I tried twice the moment I woke up,” Holt assured me, rounding his desk to sit down. He finally looked worried about it. “Then twice more on the way in. He didn’t answer. That’s weird, right?”

“Yes, it’s fucking weird,” I gritted out. “So what are you going to do?”

“I already texted Seb. He’s on his way there.”

I was still furious that for some stupid fucking reason, Seb could have his address but I couldn’t. “How long will it take him to get there?”

Holt raised a brow at me. “Not too long. I’ll come and find you when I hear from him.”

I stubbornly sat in the chair in front of his desk. “I’ll wait here.”

Holt spluttered. “I have work to do!”

“Like what?”

His cheeks turned a darker grey as he set his cup down and shuffled a few papers around on his desk. “Like… paperwork and so on. Schmoozing. I don’t fucking know. Managerial things.”

“I won’t get in your way.” I sat back and tried to appear relaxed, but my knee was bouncing wildly.

Holt squirmed a little in his seat and turned on his computer, then clicked aimlessly a few times before opening his desk drawer for no reason and closing it a second later. He pulled his notebook closer and opened it, tapping his fluffy pink pen on the desk as he stared down at it and nodded to himself, trying to look thoughtful.

“Alright, fine,” he finally blurted, dropping the pen and flopping back in his seat. “I was going to do a face mask, okay? But it’s really fucking awkward with you just sitting there.”