Chapter 113: Gone

Chapter Fourteen

Charlie

The phone rings at 4:37 in the morning.

At first, I think I'm dreaming.

Then it rings again.

And again.

I groan and blindly reach across the couch cushions until my hand finds my phone.

The screen burns my eyes.

Dr. Patel.

Well.

That can't be good.

I answer on the fourth ring.

"What exploded?"

There's a pause.

Then Dr. Patel says, "Good, you're awake."

That's never reassuring.

I sit up.

The blanket falls into my lap.

"What happened?"

"A freezer malfunction."

My eyes close.

Of course.

A freezer malfunction.

The nightmare of every biotech lab.

"What kind of malfunction?"

"The kind where the backup system failed."

My stomach drops.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

That single word tells me everything.

Months.

Possibly years.

Of research samples.

Cell lines.

Protein stocks.

All potentially compromised.

I scrub a hand down my face.

"How bad?"

"We don't know yet."

Which means bad.

Very bad.

Because if they knew it wasn't catastrophic, she would've said so already.

"I need everyone who can get here."

I glance at the clock.

4:38.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

"I'll be there."

"Thanks."

The call ends.

I stare at my phone.

Then, at the dark house around me.

For a moment, I just sit there.

Trying to wake up.

Trying to think.

Trying not to curse.

Then I swing my feet onto the floor and stand.

Work comes first.

Unfortunately.

The house is silent.

Dark.

Still.

Everyone is asleep.

Jordan.

Cade.

The entire neighborhood.

I should leave a note.

I know I should.

The problem is that I'm running late.

Every second matters when you're trying to save temperature-sensitive samples.

I grab my duffel bag.

My laptop.

My keys.

Then hesitate.

Because suddenly leaving feels wrong.

Ridiculous.

But wrong.

The hallway stretches before me.

At the far end is Cade's room.

The thought appears before I can stop it.

Maybe I should tell him.

Just him.

A quick knock.

A quick explanation.

Then I can leave.

The idea lasts all of three seconds.

Because waking him up before five in the morning to explain a lab emergency sounds insane.

So I don't.

I head for the door.

Then pause again.

God.

What is wrong with me?

I've left houses before.

I've gone to work before.

This shouldn't feel significant.

Yet standing there in the darkness, hand resting on the doorknob, I can't shake the feeling that I'm forgetting something important.

Eventually, I force myself to leave.

The front door closes quietly behind me.

The cold air hits my face.

And just like that, I'm gone.

The drive is miserable.

Not because of traffic.

There isn't any.

Because it's dark.

Because it's cold.

Because I got four hours of sleep.

And because halfway to the lab, I recall how I didn’t tell anyone where I went.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel.

Wonderful.

Now they're going to wake up and think I vanished.

Jordan will probably assume I went out for coffee.

Cade...

I don't know what Cade will think.

The realization sits heavily in my chest.

I try to ignore it.

Fail.

Spectacularly.

The lab is chaos.

People everywhere.

Equipment alarms.

Confused conversations.

Coffee.

So much coffee.

The moment I walk through the doors, Dr. Patel points toward the freezer room.

"Logan."

"No hello?"

"No."

"Fair."

I head toward the damaged storage units.

For the next several hours, my world becomes temperatures, inventory logs, viability checks, and damage assessments.

Work.

Pure work.

The kind of thing that normally consumes all my attention.

Today it doesn't.

Because every time I finish one task, my mind drifts.

Back to the house.

Back to Cade.

Back to the fact that I left without saying goodbye.

By ten o'clock, I realize something deeply irritating.

I miss him.

Not in a dramatic way.

Not in a life-altering way.

In a quiet way.

A persistent way.

Like reaching for something familiar and finding only empty air.

The realization sneaks up on me while I'm cataloging samples.

One second, I'm focused on inventory numbers.

Next, I'm thinking about coffee.

Not coffee specifically, but Cade making coffee.

Not even that.

The smell of coffee mixed with cinnamon and vanilla.

My hand stills.

I stare at the inventory sheet.

Then groan.

Because seriously?

It's been five hours.

Five.

Hours.

And somehow I already miss him.

This is embarrassing.

At lunch, Jordan texts.

Jordan: \[Alive?\]

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

Me: \[Barely.\]

Jordan: \[Work?\]

Me: \[Emergency.\]

A few seconds pass.

Then:

Jordan: \[Dad thought maybe you got abducted.\]

My smile disappears.

Me: \[What?\]

The three dots appear.

Disappear.

Then appear again.

Jordan: \[You left all your stuff except your overnight bag.\]

Jordan: \[No note.\]

Jordan: \[No text.\]

Jordan: \[You kinda vanished.\]

Guilt settles heavily in my stomach.

Because he's right.

I did.

I got the phone call.

I panicked.

I grabbed my things and left.

And somewhere between rushing out the door and trying to save months of research, I disregarded that there were people in that house who would notice I was gone.

People who might worry.

My eyes close briefly.

Wonderful.

Me: \[Tell your dad I’m sorry.\]

Jordan: \[Tell him yourself.\]

The message sits on my screen.

Simple.

Reasonable.

Easy.

My thumb hovers over the keyboard.

Then stops.

Because Jordan doesn't understand.

Of course, he doesn't.

As far as Jordan knows, Cade is just his dad.

Not the omega who's been haunting my thoughts for weeks.

Not the man I kissed.

Not the man who kissed me back.

Not the man who's been running from me ever since.

A knot forms in my chest.

I should text him.

I know I should.

The thought of him waking up and finding me gone makes my stomach twist.

But somehow reaching out feels impossible.

Because what do I even say?

Sorry, I disappeared?

Sorry, I couldn't stop thinking about you all day?

Sorry, your scent is already fading, and I miss it more than I should?

I groan and drop my head onto the breakroom table.

A coworker walks past.

"Long day?"

"You have no idea."

The rest of the afternoon becomes worse.

Not because of the freezer emergency.

Because guilt follows me everywhere.

Every time I check a sample.

Every time I update inventory.

Every time I pause for half a second.

The thought returns.

You should text him.

I don't.

By four o'clock, I've rewritten the message in my head at least twenty times.

Never sending a single version.

Coward.

That's what this is.

Not uncertainty.

Not confusion.

Cowardice.

Because texting Cade means acknowledging that he matters.

And lately, he matters entirely too much.

The first day turns into two.

Two turns into three.

By the fourth day, the lab emergency has mostly settled.

By the fifth day, I no longer have a good excuse.

The realization follows me everywhere.

I should call.

I should text.

I should do something.

Instead, I stare at my phone every night and convince myself tomorrow will be better.

Tomorrow I'll explain.

Tomorrow I'll apologize.

Tomorrow I'll tell Cade I didn't mean to disappear.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Guilt.

That's what this is.

Not work.

Not exhaustion.

Not bad timing.

I feel guilty for not reaching out sooner.

Because every day that passes makes it harder.

Every day that passes makes me wonder if Cade is angry.

Or relieved.

The second possibility bothers me more than the first.

By Friday night, I'm lying in my apartment staring at the ceiling.

The same way I've spent most of the week.

My phone rests on my chest.

The contact list open.

Jordan.

Easy.

Simple.

Safe.

Then below it—

Cade.

My thumb hovers over the name.

One press.

That's all it would take.

One press.

Instead, I lock the screen.

Set the phone aside.

And close my eyes.

Tomorrow.

I'll do it tomorrow.

The lie is getting easier to tell.

Which should probably worry me.