Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Oh.” I tipped my head in surprise upon seeing Ezra at the other side. “Hey. Uh…Hugo’s not here.” Not a second later, Drew barged past him, and me, straight into my house.
“Have you heard from him?” Ezra’s voice was calm and collected, yet laced with an edge of seriousness that concerned me.
“Hugo? No.” Drew’s panicked pacing up and down my living room frightened me. “Why? What is it?”
“He’s gone,” Drew said, raking through his hair with tense fingers. “He’s fucking gone.”
“Gone?” No. No! Not again. “What do you mean gone? Gone where? When? Why?”
Ezra sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think he’s in a bad place, Helen. We need to find him. Quickly.”
Legs weak, I fell back onto the settee. I sat forward, head in hands, while Drew continued to pace my living room. Nothing made sense.
“How do you know he’s gone?” I asked. “Like, gone in a bad way? How do you know he’s not nipped out for, I dunno, milk?”
“I found his front door wide open this morning. Cell phone on the couch. Car missing,” Ezra answered. “And…he’s been drinking.”
“Jesus.” I lowered my head. My neck ached straining to look up at Ezra, who wouldn’t sit down. He stood tall, hands clasped in front of him, ever the bodyguard. “He could’ve been burgled?” That made more sense, surely. Then…where was he?
“He hasn’t,” Drew said.
“Then, why? I…I don’t understand. You’re not telling me something. He was fine last night!” Except…I knew he wasn’t. Deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. I’d felt it. I’d felt it and ignored it.
This is my fault…
Ezra and Drew exchanged glances, swapped a silent message. Drew shrugged, offered a hand to the air, as if giving Ezra permission.
“We got word yesterday that Hugo’s mother passed away. Drew went over last night to tell him. Then, I stopped by to check on him this morning.”
“I shouldn’t have left him,” Drew said. “I should’ve fucking known the stupid bastard would do something like this.”
“Ah…shit.” Oh, Hugo. Why hadn’t he called me, come to me. Anger and worry battled for dominance in my head. “He should’ve called me. You should’ve called me!” I barked, accusing either one of them because it hurt less than blaming myself.
Had he known before the awards? Did that explain the texts, why he’d kept pushing for me to go round last night? Had Hugo disguised a cry for help as a frigging booty call?
What have I done?
“With respect,” Drew said, “You’ve only been around again for a matter of weeks. I have a responsibility to-”
“But I’ve known him his whole fucking life! I’ve seen him through, loved him through his worst days, way before he earned enough money to become a blip on your radar so don’t you dare attempt to say you were protecting him from me. Don’t you fucking dare.”
I’d stood up without noticing, my finger inches away from Drew’s face. His hand pinched it, as if extinguishing a candle, and lowered it between us. “I’m sorry, Helen,” he said, tipping his chin, narrowing his eyes. He seemed genuine. Remorseful. “He means a lot to me, too, you know.”
“Yes. I do know.” I hadn’t meant to sound resentful. Petty. Mean. Or maybe I had. I felt all those things. Every emotion to ever exist coursed through my body in that moment, and a lot of them were directed inward. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“As soon as we do that it becomes public knowledge,” Drew said. “That kind of attention is the last thing he needs.”
“Knowing what you do now, Helen,” Ezra cut in, “Do you have any idea where he might be?”
“In fifty pieces at the side of the fucking motorway if what you said is true.” Drinking and driving? Hugo? I wasn’t sure I believed it. He’d harmed himself before, way in the past, but he would never risk hurting others. Not my Hugo.
The men waited more patiently than I deserved for me to calm down, take some breaths, come up with something logical. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right, Drew. Maybe I don’t know him anymore.”
I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at either of them, but I heard Drew sigh. “I’m frustrated. I say stupid shit when I’m frustrated. Whatever’s going on in that fucked-up head of his right now is from his past, and that’s something he never shared with me. With any of us. If he’s back in the past, Helen, you’re the only one who can reach him there.”
In the past, there was only one place Hugo would go to escape. “It’s a longshot, but…”
“Get dressed,” Drew interrupted. “We’ll wait outside.”
Twelve
Hugo
It felt strange going back there, the house where it all began. It hadn’t changed. The kitchen cupboards were the same duck-egg blue, the tile above the cooker still cracked. I’d caused that crack. Thrown a pan from the rack. Couldn’t remember why, what’d pissed me off, overwhelmed me.