I can’t lose Royal. I can’t comprehend that option. Losing Royal means losing myself. Which means that finding my brother means finding myself again.
Doesn’t it?
I lurch out the door before they can stop me, forgetting I’m wearing my stupid homecoming heels with the sweatpants I stole from Devlin. I go tumbling out of the Evija and crash to the ground on hands and knees, a second scream lodging in my throat. Strong arms wrap around me, and King lifts me to my feet.
“Not in the yard,” he says, cutting his eyes toward Devlin’s house. There’s something in my brother’s eyes I’ve never seen before, and I know in that moment that none of us will ever be the same. This isn’t some stupid high school game of thrones to see who runs this town. This is real.
Daddy comes striding over, his phone in one hand and a pissed off expression on his face. “I’ve been trying to call you all damn night,” he snaps at us, his eyes fixing on me.
“Sorry, Daddy,” I say, biting down on my lip when it begins to tremble.
“Okay, everyone else is safe and accounted for,” he calls over his shoulder to a fortyish, blond policeman I vaguely recognize from some other lifetime. Oh, yeah. He’s the one Dixie said was cute, the one I’ve seen at the football games. Does he have a kid on the team? Did she say that? No, she said something about him and the Darlings…
“I told you I talked to them,” King says to Daddy, sounding irritated. “I told you they were fine. We’re all fine. Now where the fuck is Royal?”
My head is spinning, my thoughts coming in fragments. My heart beats in a fragmented rhythm, too, crashing against my ribs like two syllables of his name.
Roy-al. Roy-al. Roy-al.
The officer comes toward us, and I sway on my feet. This time, it’s Duke that wraps a strong arm around my shoulders, squeezing me so tightly to him that I can barely breathe.
“I want you to know we’ll do everything we can to locate your boy,” the policeman says.
Which means he’s not dead. He’s not. Because if he were, the world might keep spinning, but I wouldn’t be here to see it. If Royal were dead, I would know. I would die, too.
“Now, we’re just going to ask you a few more questions, and maybe if these kids can add anything helpful, we’ll have a little more to go on.”
“Isn’t that your job?” Duke asks.
The officer smiles and holds out a hand. “It sure is,” he says. He’s got a strong southern accent, and not the kind the Darlings have. This guy’s accent is straight-up redneck. “I’m Officer Gunn, and that’s Officer Rosewood, and we’re here doing our job, which is to figure out where your brother went. So if there’s anything you can tell us that might help us locate him, we can bring him on home.”
He’s tall and broad-shouldered, filling out the black uniform to perfection. Add to that the hint of golden stubble scattered across a strong jaw, and I can see why Dixie thinks he’s attractive despite the accent. I don’t give a fuck what he looks like or which side of the tracks he’s from, though. If he can find my brother, I’ll bow down and hero worship him for the rest of my life.
“Do you think he’s okay?” I blurt out, unable to hold in the one question that matters.
“I can’t answer that,” Officer Gunn says. “But I can tell you that nine times out of ten, when these kids get a wild hair, they’re home by dinnertime.”
“My son doesn’t get ‘wild hairs,’” Daddy says icily, which is not at all true. But Royal would have told us if he was going somewhere. He wouldn’t have told Daddy, but he’d tell King. We always tell King. He knows everything about all of us.
“So, he’s never gone off for a night without telling you where he’s going?” Officer Gunn asks.
None of us can deny that Royal’s done that—dozens of times. It’s only the next morning. I know I should chill, that he’ll probably come rolling in any minute with a hangover and a black eye like he has all the other times. But somehow, I know it’s not going to happen this time. I know, and Dad must know it, too, because it’s only noon, and he’s already called the police.
“He’s under eighteen,” I blurt. “Shouldn’t the FBI be involved or something? It’s a kidnapping!”
“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Gunn says, raising a hand. “The proper authorities have been notified, but it’s only been a few hours. Sometimes teenagers do impulsive things. Trust me, I know. I got a couple of ‘em myself.”
“He didn’t run away,” I growl.
“Again, I’m not sayin’ he did,” Officer Gunn says, raising a hand. “But moving can be hard on a kid. Was he happy to come here? He been getting on well at school?”
“You know the answer to that,” Daddy says, stepping forward so he’s towering over the policeman, his brows drawn together in a thunderous frown.
“Have you called his mother?” Officer Gunn asks. “Is there any chance he—”
“What?” I ask, gesturing to the house. “Drove back to New York without his car?”
Duke squeezes me against him, his grip tightening. I don’t get to fall apart. Even now, I have to keep it together.