Page 29 of Love Starves

"Hold it," Nick says, stepping between everybody with his arms outstretched. Turning to the woman, he asks, "Why are you asking about Blythe?"

She chews her lip for a second before replying, "I've been in a book club with her for a couple months and she stopped showing up. We can't get her on the phone either. The butler at her house said she's not seeing anyone when we swung by there last week. I just figured you might know since I saw you at the house the day of my shower." The last bit she directs toward Van.

Nick sighs long and loud before going into detail about what happened. I don't blame him for telling her. Shit, if Blythe's as bad as Elliot claims and has cut off everyone, not just us, then maybe one of us needs to make sure she's alright.

Elliot clears his throat, drawing all the attention his way. His fists are tight at his sides like he's ready to go to fucking battle on the mat. "I think she was buying coke from Mason last night at the club."

Even prepared for a fight, Elliot doesn't see the punch coming. Crue decks him right across the jaw, dropping him like a fucking rock. "Don't you think that's something you should've said first thing? Look how much time we've wasted standing around here now!" Standing tall over him, it's clear there's a war inside of Crue that's considering punching him again. Instead, he reaches out a hand to help him up. Which speaks volumes on how far the dude's come on controlling his anger.

"It might be best if you let me go," the girl offers. "We have a better chance at her letting me in than one of you right now."

Van nods. "Right, but one of us is going with you. Dek, ride with them and report back when you talk to her."

I dip my chin in understanding. Many years spent in the military gets you used to taking orders without question, and make no mistake, that's exactly what that just was.

I offer to drive my car over to her house, but Thatcher says it's unnecessary and he'll just drop me back off at the gym on the way back. Hell knows, if I could've predicted what we'd find when we got there, all of my decisions today would've been different.

As soon as we pull up in her drive, I can immediately tell something's wrong. If it wasn't for the way Blythe's car is parked half in a flowerbed, it'd be that there's roughly a four-inch crack in the door where it's not shut.

"Oh my god," the woman at my back gasps. "Do we need to call the cops? Think they were robbed?"

She claims to be a good enough of a friend to Blythe to check on her like this, then hopefully, she'll understand when I tell her, "If what Elliot said is true about the drugs last night, you don't want to get the cops involved unless we have to. These people are private and don't like their good names smeared. Looks like someone just forgot to shut the door." I hope I'm getting the point across, because at this point, I'm not sure I'm convinced by my own words.

I swing the door wide as I hear Thatcher tell his girl to go wait in the car, which she predictably refuses. Cursing he comments that Murphy's going to kill them both.

"Hello," I call out, feeling like I'm on the set of a horrible horror movie. You'd think being shot at and almost blown up by an IED, my nerves would be made of galvanized steel. It's quite the opposite, I've learned. Which is why my hand shakes a bit at the silence that fills the house.

"Blythe?" I try again.

"Doesn't she have a butler?" the girl asks. "Where is he?"

Unease takes my stomach for a rollercoaster ride. "Do you know where her room is?"

"No," she admits.

"Okay, I'll take downstairs if you guys want to go check the second floor," I tell them, already making my way down the short hall. I've checked the den, kitchen, and have just stepped foot into an oversized office when I hear the girl scream Blythe's name. I hold my breath while taking the stairs two and three at a time before veering off the right where I see Thatcher standing in a doorway. Practically steamrolling him out of the way, I find myself at the top of that roller coaster about to drop without a safety harness to hold me in place.

Without hesitation, I race to where Blythe is collapsed on the floor and gather her into my arms. Instincts kick in as I check for a pulse against her cold skin, and almost tear up in relief that there's one there, albeit a weak one.

"I'm sorry," the girl is saying. "I didn't know whether to touch her or not."

In a stern voice to pull her out of shock, I bark, "You did good. She's not dead. Call 911 right now."

Then back to Blythe, I hug her tight, demanding, "We aren't letting you go that easy. You better not die on us. "

Blythe

Colors and sounds float around me in a sea of wonders. I can't tell whether I'm supposed to be sinking or swimming, but it doesn't matter because none of my limbs want to respond to what I tell them to do. At one part, it feels like I'm being wrapped in a warm cocoon and there's a voice I know I should recognize. I can't make out what it says as it gets swallowed by the water, but the sound of it is soothing. I let it cover me like a weighted blanket and sink further into the darkness.

Waking up is the bitch. My eyes feel like lead as I crack them just enough to let the sunlight streaming through the window in, making my skull split in two and force them shut again. When I groan, every muscle in my body screams. What the hell happened? Was I hit by a car?

A stranger's voice has me daring to risk opening my eyes again. "Glad to see you're finally awake."

The room is completely unfamiliar, causing a rising panic in my chest. As I go to painfully pull myself into a sitting position, handcuffs on my left hand stop me. Fully alert now, I yank at them in disbelief. "What is this? Where am I? What's going on?"

"Calm down," she says. "I'm Dr. Levington. You're at St. Joseph Hospital. Do you remember anything that happened?"

I shake my head as I try to recall anything over the past couple days, but it's all coming up blank.

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