Page 110 of Ordinary Secrets

I wrench her drawer open so hard, it comes out of the nightstand. My nausea settles a tiny bit when I find her things still here. I don’t even bother putting the drawer back in. I’ve got more important things to do—like find my girl.

Maybe she’s at her apartment. Maybe she’s surprising me by packing up her things to bring here. Even as I think that, I know it’s unlikely. Still, I climb back onto my bike and head to her place.

It feels like forever getting through traffic. When I finally arrive at Arella’s apartment complex, her car is missing from the parking lot.

I knock on her door and wait all of two seconds before I point a finger at the lock and let myself in. The place smells of ripe chemicals and cleaning supplies. At least it’s spider-less. Unfortunately, it’s also Arella-less.

“Babe?” I yell, just in case.

Nobody answers.

I head into her bedroom and find zero signs that she’s been around.Where could she be?

I jump when my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a number I don’t recognize. Usually, I don’t answer unknown numbers, but... “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Trey Grant?” asks a calm female voice I’ve never heard before.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m Sara Benson, a nurse at the LA Community Hospital. I’m calling on behalf of Miss Arella Rance. She wanted me to tell you where she is.”

My lungs tighten. “Why couldn’t she call me herself?”

“I’m afraid she’s in no condition to?—”

“What happened?”

“I . . . I, um, can’t tell you exactly.”

“Why not?” I shout, and I don’t care that it’s rude.

Sara is unfazed. She replies in the same calm tone. “Because I don’t know all the details. I wasn’t here when she was admitted up from the ER. I was just told to call you.”

“The ER?” I shout again. “What?”

“Look, all I know is that she was brought in by ambulance.”

“Ambulance?” I can’t breathe.

“She’s on floor two. You’re welcome to come here and speak to the doctor in charge of?—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

34

TREY

To my ears,the hospital is quiet. To my head, it’s a madhouse of insanity. Sadness, fear, anxiety, dread—it’s all here, clawing at me to feel what everyone else feels. I can’t shut it off. I can’t even tone it down. I’m too tense to control my mind power.

“Where is she?” I ask the woman stationed behind the first desk I can find on floor two.

She looks up at me from behind a pair of sparkly pink eyeglasses. The name badge clipped to her chest reads: Sara Benson, RN.

“You must be Trey Grant.”

“Yes. Where is she?” I sound rude and impatient, but I can’t help it. I won’t be okay until I see Arella again.

The woman doesn’t seem to care that I’m on a one-track train going three hundred miles an hour toward one goal and one goal only. “Wow. You got here quick. Do you live nearby?”

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