“You,” Harper snaps. “You’re what’s wrong with him. Now we have to find him and make it right. You in?”
“Of course I’m in,” I snap back at her. “He’s my twin. If I upset him, then I’m the one who needs to make it right.”
“Right answer,” she says, taking out her phone. “Let’s go.”
twenty-seven
Harper Apple
King turns to me. “You know him best. Where would he go?”
“The bridge,” I say instantly, though I’ll come back to his other comment later to treasure it the way it deserves. I know Royal better than even his family, enough that King asked me and not the twins.
No one asks what bridge or questions my answer, either.
King turns to his wife. “Eliza, take Bishop inside,” he says. “Crys, take the kids in, too. We have a nanny if you want to come with us.”
“My car’s biggest,” Duke says.
“I’ll move the van,” Devlin says, handing a baby to Crystal, who already has her arms full with one. I can’t even comprehend having that many small children at once. It makes me feel itchy just thinking about it.
“Baron,” I say, turning to my least favorite Dolce boy. “Do you have a tracker on Royal’s phone?”
He just looks at me coolly, and for a second, I think he’s not going to answer. But then he nods and pulls out his phone, tucking his sucker into his cheek as he frowns down at his phone. I would have called Preston for his car whereabouts if Royal was in his car.
“It’s here,” Baron says after a second.
I curse under my breath, remembering Royal dropping it in the console when I climbed in his lap earlier, when we were parked beside the bridge having our reunion after a week apart.
My heart twists at the memory of what came next. If something happens to him, and the last thing we did was fight…
Duke pulls out of the garage in the big Hummer, and a flash of panic bolts through me. The last time I was in that car was the night they took me to the swamp.
But I’ve dealt with that, enough that I can swallow down the adrenaline and stagger to the car through the wave of dizziness. I’m grateful that they’re all too focused on Royal to notice. I breathe through it for a minute as we all pile into the three rows of seats and get situated.
Then Duke guns the engine, and we take off.
After what feels like ten minutes, I look at the clock on the dash and see it’s only been one. I remember another ride in this Hummer, how panicked and desperate I felt when the Dolce boys laid out the plan to go after Lindsey or Magnolia when Royal’s car was bombed. I had no one to call, no contact except for our home computer and theOnlyWordsapp.
Now I have friends.
Ironically, the person who can help me now is the person I was trying to help then.
I pull out my phone and dial.
“Hey, boomer,” comes a snotty, Southern voice on the other end. “I can’t believe you’re calling me. God, does anyone under fifty even do that anymore?”
“Do you have your license?” I ask.
“No,” Magnolia says. “Why?”
“Shit,” I say. “Is there anyone there who can drive down to the bridge real quick?”
“I said I didn’t have my license,” she says. “I didn’t say I can’t drive. Me and Sully take the old crustacean’s cars out all the time. He calls it joyriding. How cringey is that?”
“Can you go down to the bridge?” I ask. “Call me back if my car is there. Royal has it.Do notengage with him. I don’t know what he’ll do. And don’t shoot him.”
“On it,” she says. “What’s happening, though?”