Page 62 of Strut

I stroked his hair and inhaled the fresh, clean scent of him. I kissed him softly and he hummed something I couldn’t hear. Then, with him safe in my arms and his body pressed against me, I finally fell asleep.

* * *

I woke with my legs tangled in my blanket and my skin on fire. Someone had turned the heating up.Alec. It took a few seconds for the memories from the previous evening to flood my brain, but when they did, I shot up in bed, suddenly and acutely aware that I was the only one in it.

I checked my phone. Seven-thirty.Shit.I ran my hand over the sheet where Alec had lain in my arms. It was cold.

The bathroom was dark.

The apartment was quiet.

Too fucking quiet.

I tossed the covers aside and raced into the living room, the weak grey light of a clear fall morning striping the room.

But the space was empty.

A quick look at the coat rack beside the door confirmed Alec’s heavy jacket was missing and his boots were gone. Panic gripped my chest. I hit the off button on the thermostat before I self-combusted, then caught sight of the writing pad I’d been using the night before. It lay tossed on the floor next to half-drunk coffee and my heart crashed into my stomach.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I picked up the coffee mug but it was cold. Dammit. I slumped on the couch and mentally slapped myself. I shouldn’t have left the pad out. Jesus, what must Alec have thought when he’d seen my to-do list and my detailed account of what had happened to him? That I wanted him to talk to all those people for a start. That I might try and convince him to do shit he didn’t want to.That’swhat he would’ve thought. It’s whatIwould’ve thought.

Fucking hell.Had I learned nothing from being best friends with Rhys for all these years?

I ran for my phone and fired Alec a text.I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I was just getting my thoughts on paper. They’re just ideas. I would never pressure you to do ANYTHING. Please call.

I waited but my phone stayed silent, my message unread.

I tried calling. Still no answer.

Where had he gone?

I ran into our bedroom and checked the closet and drawers. There was some stuff of his missing but not everything. But his backpack was gone.Fuck!

Had he gone back to his apartment? I didn’t know any of Alec’s model friends. I had no numbers to call, nothing. But I could go and check.

I ditched the idea of a shower, ran a wet cloth over my tired face, and then dressed in some warm clothes as I continued to send Alec texts.

Call me.

I’m sorry.

I’m going to your apartment.

I grabbed a pastry from the deli on the corner and hailed a cab. The Saturday traffic was surprisingly light and I was at Alec’s apartment in just over twenty minutes with still no reply from him.

I’d just pressed the apartment buzzer at eight thirty when I caught sight of Tim through the glass doors heading toward the back of the building with what looked like a bag of laundry. I banged on the door and he turned to frown at me. Then he waved and jogged over to let me in.

“Hey, Hunt—”

“Have you seen Alec?” The question burst from my mouth.

Tim frowned. “No, I thought he was staying with you?”

“He was.Is,” I quickly added. “It’s just... well he wasn’t there when I woke up this morning and he’s not answering his phone or replying to my texts.”

Tim stared at me, a crease forming between his brows, and it registered vaguely that he looked tired and pale. “Did you guys fight?” He raised a brow.

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