Page 63 of Strut

“What? No.” I ran a hand down my face and struggled to find the words. “Alec... well, something happened to him yesterday... nothing to do with me... but Alec was upset last night. And then this morning he wasn’t there. I’m worried. I thought maybe he came back here?”

Tim shook his head. “Nope. Hang on, I’ll call him.” He pulled out his phone and put it to his ear. After a bit he frowned and ended the call, then fired off a text. “He’s not answering me either. Are you sure he’s got his phone with him?”

“Yes. I checked the apartment before I left. It’s not there.”

Tim’s expression hardened. “Tell me what happened, Hunter?”

I swallowed hard. “I can’t tell you the details. I won’t break his confidence. All I can say is that he was really, really upset last night and then this morning he was gone.”

Tim’s eyes widened in realisation. “Shit. He had that callback for Berlini yesterday. We spoke on the phone just before he went in. He was fine then. Was that it? Did he miss out on the campaign?”

I shook my head. “No. They haven’t made a decision yet.”Because their photog’s a fucking arsehole. “I just need to find him, Tim. I know he likes to go to parks and by the river to think. Does he have a favourite?”

Tim thought for a minute before he answered. “We’ve walked the East River Greenway a bit, or there’s Central Park. Jesus, Hunter, he could be anywhere. How would I know?”

My hope plummeted and I slumped against the wall.

Tim watched me for a moment. Then he put a hand on my arm and when he spoke, his tone was soft and concerned. “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“Fuck, okay, you’ve gotmeworried now.” Tim studied me for a minute, then held out his hand. “Give me your phone and I’ll put my number in. I’ll keep trying to reach him and let you know if I hear anything, okay?”

“Thanks.” I handed him my phone and had a sudden thought. “What time does the High Line open?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Seven, I think. It should be open now.” Then he frowned. “Do you think that’s where he is?”

I shrugged. “We walked it a couple of weeks ago and it’s not that far from my apartment.”

Tim nodded. “Then it’s worth a shot. Keep in touch and I’ll keep trying to reach him as well.”

“I will. And thanks.”

Tim handed me my phone, hesitated, then added, “Just so you know, I think Alec really likes you.”

I smiled for the first time that morning. “I really like him too.”

Tim’s gaze narrowed and he poked me in the chest. “Good. But if you screw with him, I’ll fuck you over till you can’t walk a straight line. Are we clear?”

I barked out a laugh. “Crystal.”

Tim grunted. “Good. Now go. And don’t forget to let me know when you find him so I can send him my plastic surgeon’s bill for giving me worry lines.”

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Alec

The smellof food and fresh coffee rising from West 15th and the Chelsea Markets jolted me from my thoughts and reminded me I hadn’t eaten for nearly eighteen hours. I followed my nose down the stairs and into the warmth of the small doughnut shop where I ordered a coffee and a cruller and sat at a small table overlooking the concourse.

As I waited for my order, I checked my phone and blinked at the time. Ten o’clock? I’d been wandering aimlessly for almost four hours. A ton of messages and missed calls filled the screen and I sighed. I’d been so angry when I’d read that list that I’d muted my phone knowing he’d try to contact me. Childish? Yeah. But it wasn’t like I was thinking straight. I sent a single reply.I’m okay. Just thinking.Then I laid my phone face down on the table. I wasn’t ready to doanythingor talk toanyone.

I didn’t want to be rescued or placated or pitied or even hugged, especially that last one, and especially not by Hunter. Because if Hunter pulled me into his arms any time soon, I was pretty sure I’d cave to anything he wanted from me. And I needed my feet on some kind of solid ground before I faced that fucking list and Hunter’s arguments about what I should do. Because somewhere in the mess of numbness, anger, and panic swirling in my heart, there was one very clear thing that I really, really, really wanted to do.

Hide.

I really wanted to hide. And it was the one thing I knew I couldn’t or shouldn’t do, but fuck if I didn’t want to. I wanted to disappear into a dark place and just stop. Stop thinking. Stop feeling. Stop wondering if I could’ve stopped him putting his hands on me. Stop the endless loop of his face in front of me. Stop the crawl of his hands on my skin. Stop turning at the sharp smell of him like he was there and not just a memory. Stop the sour taste of him on my lips.

Just fucking stop.

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