Page 52 of Drum Me Away
For that matter, where was the entire band?
I slipped my phone out of my clutch. In between all the standard social media alerts, there was a single text from Dahlia:
We all paid our respects and decided to take off, give you space to be with your family. We’re flying back to LA tonight.
Wait, what? Did that include Lucas? I called his cell. After a single ring, I was dumped into voicemail.
Seriously? What was going on?
I glanced around again, searching for him. He wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.
Would he?
But he had, once before. When he went home for the last six weeks before our tour started. He’d not said a word to me and didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. Gabe had been the only one aware that he’d left, and even he hadn’t known where Lucas went.
I stormed through the facility, looking for his blond man bun and his sexy as hell tailored suit, even popping my head into the men’s restroom because by that point I had become desperate.
I needed him. He was my rock. He was my…everything. Without him I might as well have been a dingy, adrift in the ocean without an oar. Or food. Or water.
I had to find him.
Another call went straight to voicemail, multiple texts went unread, and I glanced down as I snagged my heel on something. A tie. Somewhere between black and gray.
Lucas’s tie.
Biting off a gasp, I rushed out to the parking lot to see if our rental car was still here. The rain from earlier had lightened to a fine mist, coating everything with a sheen of white that almost looked like snow, except it was summer and in the upper 70s.
The car was still there, but the two other rentals the band had shown up in were not. When I glanced in the window, I spotted the keys, lying on the driver’s seat.
What the actual fuck?
Okay, maybe they had dropped him at the treehouse. Maybe he just didn’t like funerals and needed a breather. God knows, I could understand.
Lucas could ignore my calls, but once I arrived, I’d corner him like I had the other day in the bathroom. Hopefully, we’d have the same end result, except better, because this time I was ready to admit that I wanted so much more than amazing sex from him.
I clung to the steering wheel, my knuckles white as I drove. Not because the roads were treacherous or I hated driving in the rain, but because I had this uncomfortable sensation in my sternum that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
That sensation bounced into a near panic attack when I pulled into the driveway of the treehouse and there were no other vehicles present. But Dahlia said they’d all decided to head back to LA, so that would explain the lack of cars.
Jerking off my heels, I rushed up the stairs, fumbling with the keys until the lock final gave, and I practically fell into the house when the door opened.
The empty house.
The only sounds were the hum of the refrigerator and the fan I’d forgotten to turn off in the bedroom when we got up this morning. A burst of wind rustled the trees and raindrops momentarily tapped against the deck.
“Lucas?”
I swear the trees whispered, “He isn’t here.”
I rubbed my eyes, probably smearing my makeup beyond saving. “Lucas? Where are you?”
Again there was no answer. I strode through the house to his bedroom. Our bedroom, as of last night, although I hadn’t yet moved my luggage in here. I’d planned to, though.
It was empty, save the shorts and tank top I’d shed last night before climbing into bed with Lucas. I’d left them laying on the floor, but he’d apparently picked them up and placed them on the bed.
The closet was empty. His suitcase was gone.
I rushed across the hall to the bathroom. The towel he’d used after his shower was there, hanging on a rod attached to the wall, but there was only one toothbrush in the holder. All the various jars and bottles I used as part of my beauty routine were there, but no electric shaver, no small black toiletry bag with his initials on the side. The miniature bottle of his favorite shampoo wasn’t in the shower.
