Chapter 76 Has to be there
My phone lights up again.
Dad.
I decline it. It lights up again before I’ve even lowered it from my ear. Decline again. The excuse is already sent in a clipped, corporate text, ‘Unexpected emergency. Apologies. Will follow up.’
It’s thin but I don’t care, I need the line clear. If Ryan calls, I need to see it. I need to hear it. I need to be there the second it happens.
I grip the steering wheel harder than necessary. As I drive, my mind keeps splitting in two directions. School...Home.
Maybe he went home and...And what?
Collapsed? Fainted in the hallway? Slid down against the kitchen cabinets because the dizziness hit too fast?
I’m jumping ahead. Building catastrophes out of silence. There’s still a chance he’s at the school. There’s still a chance his phone is dead. There’s still a chance I am overreacting. But the apartment is first on the way, so I take the turn. I park badly, crooked, but I don’t fix it. I’m out of the car before the engine fully cuts. The lobby doors slide open too slowly. The elevator takes forever. Every second feels swollen and wrong.
“Come on,” I mutter under my breath.
The doors finally open. I’m out before they finish parting. Down the hall towards his door. I unlock it with the spare key, the door swings open. Ember is there immediately.
She meows once, loud and indignant, but she doesn’t look relieved. She doesn’t dart back toward a person. She just stands there waiting. My stomach drops. If Ryan were here, she wouldn’t be at the door like this. I don’t know how I know that, I just do.
“Ryan?” I call anyway.
Silence....I move quickly through the apartment. Bedroom. Bathroom. Kitchen.
Empty and too fucking still. A curse slips out under my breath. I step back into the hallway as Ember’s meow follows me, sharp and questioning. I pull the door shut and dial Ryan again.
It rings three times....Four. I’m about to hang up, about to pivot toward the car when...
“...Hello?”
I stop walking. It’s not Ryan, 8 know instantly. I’ve become too attuned to his voice. The steadiness he forces into it even when he’s exhausted. The low warmth beneath his words. The way it pulls, subtle and familiar. This voice is younger, uneven and uncertain.
“Who is this?” I ask sharply. “Where’s Ryan?”
A pause.
“Uh.... I don’t know who Ryan is,” the voice says. Male. Teenager. Trying too hard to sound unbothered. “But someone left this phone in a classroom.”
My jaw tightens.
“He’s a teacher,” I say, forcing calm into my voice. “Mr. Ashbrook. Where is he?”
Another pause. I can practically hear the smirk through the line. “Ohhh. This is his phone?”
I run a hand through my hair, agitation spiking. “Yes,” I snap. “Do you know where he is?”
“I mean...” the kid says, dragging it out, “classes ended a while ago, man.”
My pulse thunders in my ears.
“He’s not there?” I ask.
“Nope. Room’s empty.” A beat. “Maybe he forgot where he left it.”
“I’m on my way to get it,” I say tightly.
“Cool,” he replies, too amused by this. “I’ll hang onto it.”
I hesitate for half a second. The urge hits me hard, ask him to check the halls. The bathrooms. The staffroom. Ask him to look around. To see if Ryan’s sitting somewhere alone, pale and dizzy and too stubborn to call for help. But Ryan would hate that. He wouldn’t want his students circling him. Wouldn’t want them seeing weakness. Wouldn’t want questions.
I swallow it down.
“I’ll be there soon,” I say.
I hang up. I don’t remember getting back into the car. I don’t remember starting it. But suddenly I’m driving. The few blocks to the school feel endless and instant at the same time. My hands are steady on the wheel, but everything inside me is not.
He’s there.....He has to be there.
There are a few students lingering near the entrance when I pull up. Jerseys. Gym bags. Loud, careless laughter that doesn’t belong in the middle of my chest feeling like this. I park without thinking about it and get out, already dialing Ryan’s number again as I stride toward the gates.
“Yeah?” the same teenage voice answers.
“Where are you?” I ask immediately.
A pause.
“Uh.... You the guy in the suit?”
I stop and look around. There’s a student standing near the entrance doors, phone pressed to his ear, holding another book tucked under his arm. He lifts the phone slightly when he spots me.
“That you?” he says into it.
“That’s me,” I reply, already moving toward him. He lowers the phone as I approach, giving me a once-over. Sneakers, jersey, that particular brand of teenage nonchalance that borders on performance. Up close, he looks younger than he sounds.
“You good?” he asks casually, holding out the phone.
I take it from him, my grip probably tighter than necessary. “Thank you.”
He shrugs. “It was just sitting on top of this.” He lifts the book under his arm. “Figured it was Mr. Ashbrook’s too. Since he teaches literature and stuff.”
Despite everything, something in me almost exhales at that.
“Right,” I mutter. “Thanks.”
He tilts his head slightly, studying me now. “He okay?”
I shake my head automatically. “Yeah. Yes. He’s fine.”
The kid’s eyebrow lifts just a fraction, like he doesn’t fully buy it. “You sure?” he says. “You look kinda....” He gestures vaguely. “...intense.”
I ignore that. “Where did you find it?” I ask instead.
He jerks his thumb toward the building. “One of the classrooms down that hall. Door was open. Phone was just there.”
“And he wasn’t?”
“Nah.” He frowns slightly now, like he’s replaying it. “Room was empty.”
Empty. My stomach tightens again.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, man.” He shifts his weight. “Lights were off. Desks all normal. Nobody there.”
I glance past him at the entrance, already mapping possibilities.
“Maybe try the bleachers?” he adds. “Or the staffroom. I dunno.”
He lets out a small chuckle. “Or the library. I’ve seen him in there a couple times just.... reading. For no reason. Like he doesn’t get enough of that at work.”
“For no reason,” I repeat under my breath.
“Where’s the staffroom?” I ask quickly. “And the library.”
The kid shifts the book under his arm and gestures inside with broad, loose movements, like he’s mapping out a skate park instead of a school building. Down the main hallway past the trophy cases. Left at the science wing. The staffroom is near the administrative offices... “you’ll see a bunch of sad beige doors,” he says. The library’s on the second floor, up the stairs near the art rooms. “Big glass wall. Kinda hard to miss.”
He throws in landmarks that probably make more sense to him than they do to me.... a vending machine that “eats your dollars,” a busted water fountain, a mural of something that “kinda looks like a depressed eagle.”
I nod once when he’s done, committing it to memory the way I do contracts and clauses.... quickly, precisely, no room for error.
“Got it. Thanks,” I say.
He gives me a half-salute, already disengaging. “Yeah. Good luck, Suit.”
I’m already moving. The building looms ahead of me, too quiet for this time of day. And I have no idea where to start.