Page 101 of Red Flagged
Ivy
I just tried to call her three times, but she’s not answering. She’s probably sleeping. She’s had a long few days, plus she’s on her period. She said hers are the worst.
Oh, shit. I hadn’t even thought about that. Aurélie had even taken the time to explain what having endometriosis felt like, especially with her periods.
Still. Something wasn’t sitting right.
I stared at my phone, debating what to do next. I knew the house she bought wasn’t too far from here. Less than an hour, if I recalled correctly. But she didn’t give me her address, and I’d joked about coming to find her—oh.
Was this a game? Was she purposefully not answering because I told her I’d find heranywhere? Christ. If this was what she was doing, her punishment was going to be brutal. After I kissed the hell out of her and made her promise to never fucking do this again.
Except that theory didn’t make sense. Why would she avoid talking to me entirely? And not respond to the rest of us? Especially me and Ivy.
Nope, something wasdefinitelywrong.
At a certain point, the dread won out.
I responded to Ivy.
You’re probably right.
I’m going to check on her, but I need her new address and I know your nosy ass has it.
Also, what do women like when they’re on their periods?
Ivy
Are you groveling for something?
Actually, doesn’t matter. Pls tell me how she’s doing and tell her to answer her phone.
Also, usually candy, comfort foods, and anything warm and cozy. Candles too. Good luck!
The address came through next, and I pulled it up in my maps app. A little over fifty minutes from me, which wasn’t bad. And it was still early enough that I could stop and get some of those jellybeans she loved so much.
I threw together a duffel like it was some kind of sprint race. Change of clothes. Phone chargers. Toiletries. I glanced around my room and stilled. That fucking bunny heating pad was on the dresser, where I’d dropped it after she forgot it in Silverstone. I stood there for a full beat, staring at it like it could explain anything. Then I grabbed it, tucked it carefully into the bag, and zipped everything up.
I cleaned up my flat before I left. Straightened the throw on the couch, wiped down the counter, put my dishes in the dishwasher. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought it’d matter. That if I brought her back, I could say, “See? I was ready for you.”
Then I snatched my keys and left, because waiting another fucking second might kill me.
I stopped at the candy shop a few streets over. They carried the fancy jellybeans she claimed were better than American ones. I bought three packs. The cashier gave me a look I didn’t care to interpret.
At a store near the city edge, I grabbed a soft pink throw blanket, a smoked vanilla candle, and a lavish bouquet of pink peonies. She loved peonies. and if what she needed right now was comfort, I’d bring it. If she needed penance, I’d offer it. If she needed anything at all, I’d give it to her.
The drive into the countryside was all shadows and fading daylight. I barely registered any of it. Just mile after mile of anxiety, eating at me. My neck ached. My shoulders tightened. The pain from the crash had never fully left. I’d just buried it under racing and sex and adrenaline. But now? Now it crawled back up my spine and sank its claws into me.
She hadn’t called. She hadn’t texted. She hadn’t said a word in over a day. And I’d let it slide because I didn’t want to push too hard, didn’t want to scare her off. But fuck that. I should’ve shown up yesterday. I should’ve trusted my instincts.
Because if something had happened to her…
I gripped the wheel tighter and rolled the windows down, hoping the fresh air would help me relax.
Then, finally, I turned down a long, winding private drive. The sun had vanished behind the hills, taking my breath with it. The trees on either side loomed, tall and whispering against each other in the coastal breeze.
Her navy Alpine sat in front of a beautiful stone house. Parked beside it was a vintage Porsche 911. One I didn’t recognize.
My stomach churned as I took in the scene. There were no lights on inside, no sound coming from the house. It was just the two cars and an eerie sense of dread.
