Page 80 of All Wrong
He snorted. It didn’t matter. Someone in that family knew where she was whether Corinne had shared that information or not because they were overprotective, intrusive fuckers. And for once, he was glad for it.
“But Lacie knows where she is.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his sister, waiting for an answer.
“Fine. Lacie was worried, okay? She had Shane ping the location on her SUV’s GPS. She’s in upstate New York.”
“What the fuck is she doing in upstate New York?”
“How should I know?” Nicki said, exasperation lacing her tone. “Doing a wine tour around the Finger Lakes? Visiting Niagara Falls? Hiking the gorge at Watkins Glen? What difference does it make?”
It didn’t, as long as Corinne had gone of her own volition. Sure, Corinne hadn’t had it easy lately, but she wasn’t the type to take off like that, suddenly and without warning. Didn’t anyone else see that? The uncomfortable feeling in his gut moved upward and squeezed his chest.
“When was the last time someone talked to her?”
“I just told you. Corinne texted Lacie on Tuesday morning.”
“Not texted.Talked.”
Nicki’s expression turned thoughtful. “Probably Monday night, when you stopped by her place.”
That was two days and—he looked at the clock on the wall—twenty-one hours ago. Corinne hadn’t checked in in nearly three days? He pulled out his phone and did a quick sweep of Corinne’s social media. Nothing. No scenic pics of the mountains. No shots of a delicate, pink-nailed hand, holding a glass of fermented Niagara grapes.
“Call Ian. Ask him if there’s been any activity on her credit cards in the last three days.”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
“Does this sound like Corinne to you?” he barked back.
Nicki sat back, her eyes narrowing. “Something you want to tell me, Nick?”
No, there isn’t.“Goddammit, can you just fucking call Ian, please?”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on. Did something happen on Monday night?”
“No.”
Nicki’s eyes burned into him like lasers. She had questions, questions he didn’t want to answer.
“Fuck. Nick, tell me you didn’t.”
Leave it to his sister to read him like a goddamn book.
“Not Monday night, no,” he said through a clenched jaw.
“Fuck,” she said again, drawing out the word into a groan. “Isthatwhy she’s been ghosting everyone?”
That might be part of it, but he refused to believe he was the sole reason she’d blown town.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You and Corinne.” She shook her head. “Does anyone else know?”
He shook his head. He hadn’t told anyone, andhe couldn’t imagine Corinne had either. The fact that he still had all of his teeth—and his balls—attested to that.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Nothing is going on.” And fuck him, saying that hurt. Somewhere in the span of the last couple of days, he’d begun to think that maybe he shouldn’t have been so eager to walk away.
“Bullshit. Please tell me you didn’t pull a one-and-done. She’s not one of your club sluts.”
On that, they were in one hundred percent agreement.
