Love's Learning Curve (30 page)

“Ty, what the hell is going on?” he asks while pressing the keys to unlock the system. Seeing my urgency, he stands and lets me take the seat.  The Internet opens to a search engine, and instead of searching the name of the actual paper, I type in my name and press enter.  And there it is, over and over on page one.  I open the article and read, as Coach stands close beside me reading over my shoulder.

I look at my phone again and read the message full of toxins and lies from her mother.  The article, although slightly twisted with the headline, doesn’t correlate with her mother’s text to her.  I see no mention of our private bedroom activities anywhere, as I search pages and pages of entries tied to my name.

More importantly, I’ve told no one about the magnitude of our relationship.  No-FUCKING-body. 

I sit back in the chair, my hands fisting my hair.  What the hell?  I need to figure this out.  I need to talk to Charlotte right now.  I pick up the phone and dial her number.  It goes straight to voicemail.  I dial again and again and again.  Nothing.

Coach moves to the door of the office and closes it, before lowering the shade to give us some privacy.  He comes around the side of the desk and sits on the edge, next to the chair, placing his hand on my shoulder.  He doesn’t speak.  He’s a smart man, and I know he’s put the puzzle together after reading the evidence on my phone and seeing the article.

“I need a plan.  I have to find her.  I have to explain and tell her it’s all lies.”  It’s the truth, but the bigger truth I know is there’s no way Charlie is at the hospital right now.  No one would be okay enough to function after getting a text like that.  She’s gotta be at home.  She’s probably a wreck, and I need to help her.  I want to be there.  Hell, I want to fucking tell her she can have my name to make up for her parents’ hateful attempts to make her feel like her existence has discredited theirs. 

Charlotte can be a Stone.  She’s mine anyway.  In almost a month, she’s turned my world upside down.  I’d give up a lot to keep her walking in my little world.  I’ll give her anything to make this better, my name being the first of many things she deserves.

“I need to go to her, Coach.”  I stand, and he does the same grabbing his keys off the desk. 

“I’m driving,” he tells me leaving no room for debate, but I don’t have that fight in me anyway.  We leave the room quick with Coach ordering one of the assistants to lock up as we pass them down the hall.  I don’t care who he speaks to in my trancelike state, as my gaze never leaves the cement.  I don’t waste time bothering to get my things either.

Leaving the sorority house, I still have no information.  Morgan claimed to have no idea where Charlie was and has spent the day searching as well after hearing the news from her family that The Baker’s had had a falling out with Charlotte.  A falling out?  Interesting assessment but no comparison to the reality. 

I’m not sure that Morgan was truthful, but I interrogated her for forty minutes from every angle.  I tried being nice, and when that didn’t earn a confession any different from what she’d already said, I was an asshole.  Still nothing.

I tell Coach to go to my house.  I didn’t even consider it before, but since she’s not at her place, it’s worth a shot.  The drive is short, and I find myself whispering a prayer that she’s there or at the very least has left a message of her whereabouts.

When we pull up and her car isn’t there, I lose hope.  I jump out of the car and run to the door, turning the handle to find it unlocked.  I call out to her immediately, but the gloom of emptiness is evident.  I run up the stairs to the bedroom and see the condition of the room. 

The comforter is hanging off the bed as if it were jerked off.  One pillow is on the floor; the other is at the foot of the bed.  The cord to her phone is still plugged into the wall.  One of the flesh-colored heels she was wearing last night is peeking out from the corner of the bedframe.  In the bathroom, her hairbrush is on the floor along with a tube of the shiny lip shit she wears.  Behind the door are the panties she was wearing the night before that I peeled off her body as she sat on the edge of the counter. I had pleasured her body with my mouth trying to convince her that showers together were so much better.

Not only is she not here, but she also left in a hurry, and my gut tells me she’s not coming back for the stuff she left behind.  But where the fuck is she?

I race down the stairs to the kitchen counter where I left the note with the key.  I need to see if she took the key I told her I left.   When I see the shiny reflection as I turn the corner from the stairs, I realize not only did she not take the key, but she also didn’t read my note or take the treat I left for her.  There’s no way she’d have left that behind.  I grab the note, key, and gourmet caramel apple I bought on the way to the party last night and walk out the door. I start to use HER key to lock the door then change my mind wanting the house to be open just in case she comes back.

I get in the car, and Coach looks at the shit in my lap in question. “I left it for her this morning before I left.  She didn’t take it.”

“Son, I don’t know your girl, so I don’t know where to try next.  You want to keep searching or are you ready to wait it out?”  I glare at his words. 

“I’m not fucking giving up.  I’ll never stop looking.  I can’t imagine she’s there, but let’s try the hospital.  After that, I’ll drive to every hotel within a two-hundred-mile radius and check for her car.”  He nods and silently drives while the murmurs of a country radio station play in the background.

How long does it take him to go inside and ask a few questions to see if either Charlie is there or anyone knows where she is?  I wanted to go in, but I’m a mess, and Coach demanded I sit and wait this time.  There are sick kids in there, and I’m hanging on by a thread.  He knew handling the delicate situation in that environment was out of my capability right now, and I agreed.  But it’s been twenty damn minutes.

The doors to the hospital slide open and I see him walk out.  I jump out of the car to pepper him with questions before he’s even twenty-five yards away.

“Is she there?  Does anyone know where she is?  Do they know if she’s okay?”

 “Get in the car, Ty.  We’ll talk on the way.”  With that, I don’t argue.

As soon as he’s in, he belts himself in the seat and backs out of the space in the lot.  “She’s hurting, bad.  She’s safe.  I know where she is, and I’m going to tell you with the understanding you can’t go to her.  That wasn’t an option, and even though I begged on your behalf for that to be accepted, his verbatim words were, ‘I told him I’d kill him if he hurt her.  If he shows up on my parents’ steps, I won’t get the honor because my dad will do it for me.’  So now you wait or keep trying to reach her by phone.” 

He doesn’t need to tell me where she is.  Jamie Taylor said those very words to me just this morning.  Charlotte is in protective custody under the watch of George and Sue Taylor.  There’s not a doubt in my mind that George would shoot me if I drove up, either.  I also know that I should watch my back because Jamie will be on a manhunt.  Tonight was a special time for his little girl, so I gained a reprieve, but it won’t last.  Tomorrow is a new day.

It’s been five days since the world collapsed around me.   Hiding here wasn’t an offer given or invitation accepted, but I don’t want to be anywhere else.  I made the fleeting comment last night at the family dinner that they’ve made it such a perfect rescue haven that I may never leave.  George huffed, puffing out his chest like the king of the castle before stating with no option to argue, “Ha.  That’s good because you won’t be.”  To which Sue, Mary, Debbie, Trace, and Jamie all agreed without question.  I knew they were serious, and I can think of no other place I’d want to be than surrounded by these people, but I have a life, and I need to get back to it. 

It’s Sunday, and I’ve skipped all my obligations over the past few days and hunkered down in hiding not talking to anyone.  It even took me a couple of days to respond to Morgan’s calls and messages.  I took the passive path and texted instead of actually calling, letting her know where I was and that I was safe, and I’d be home in a few days. 

Well, today is the day.  I’m not sure I’m ready to face the circumstances of my new world, but I have to do it eventually.  Breaking the news to the Taylor family was tough, but they understood.  I was on the receiving end of my very first father/daughter lecture from George.  Every Saturday night is family dinner, and he expects me to make every attempt to be present.  In addition to that, I’m to check in with calls, not texts, to the family members regularly.  He said every day at first, and it took some negotiating to get to regularly.  And I’m to come to the restaurant or here at home more often to eat since Sue is convinced I’m wasting away and needs to make sure I’m properly nourished.

I’ve been adopted and welcomed into a family I’ve been a part of for a while but in a much bigger way.  Even if it’s not real or legal, the love they share with me is genuine.  My heart isn’t healed.  I don’t think it ever will be, but I’m not alone in the world; that much is clear.  I have people to love, who reciprocate the feeling.  It means a lot to me.  I just hope that one day it fills me because the hollow echo vibrating inside me right now feels permanent.