Rapping my knuckles against his front door, I wait for a response.
Nothing.
That little bit of hope I felt outside comes rushing back.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I find his name and hit call.
He picks up after only two rings.
“Hey, man. I’m outside your place. Where are you?”
“I’ve had to come up to Manchester to sort some shit out in the studio.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I-is everything all right?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. I hadn’t meant for my words to come out sounding quite so dejected.
“Yeah, yeah. I was just calling in on the off-chance. Any ideas when you’ll be back?”
“I guess that depends on why you’re so keen to see me. You’re not about to hand your notice in, are you?” he asks lightly, but I hear the hesitation.
“What? No, never. You aren’t ever getting rid of me, man.”
“Thank fuck for that. So, you’re good, yeah?”
“Yeah, man. I’m great. I’ll see you when you’re back. Biff with you?” I ask in an attempt to take the heat off me.
“Of course. I’m not about to leave her with you horny fuckers.”
“Fuck off, man. Neither D nor I will be going after your girl.”
“And for that, I’m fucking grateful. Titch is already playing with fire,” he jokes.
“Nah, they’re perfect for each other. In a weird kind of way,” I admit. Seeing my boy so whipped by a woman has been weird. He always said he wanted something serious, but I guess my own fear of commitment meant I didn’t really think he meant it. I don’t trust women—not with my heart, anyway—and I kind of thought he was the same. Clearly not.
“Weird, yeah. That’s one way to put it. Listen, I’ve gotta go, man. I’ll see you in a couple of days, yeah?”
“You got it.”
We hang up, and I rest back against the wall, kicking myself for being a pussy and not just telling him.
There’s something fucking wrong with me.
Seeing as I’ve now got a house guest, I stop off at a shop on the way home to pick up food and other bits she’s probably going to expect. I even go to the extent of getting her some girly toiletries, seeing as I noticed she’s yet to litter my bathroom with the shit. I can only assume, knowing where she came from, that she didn’t have any.
I grab something for dinner and a new bottle of Jack before heading to the checkouts.
Stupidly, I didn’t think anything of it all day, but as I push the key into the lock of my flat, I’m suddenly very aware that she could have ignored my final warning.
I tell myself I’m just being paranoid. Kas might be many things, but I don’t think stupid is one of them.
“Kas,” I call the second I have the door open.
I look around the room, which is exactly as I left it earlier, minus her.
“Kas?” I ask again, dumping the bags in my hand on the kitchen counter.
My heart sinks as I push her bedroom door open and find it empty.
“Fuck,” I bark, racing to the bathroom, followed by my bedroom on the off-chance this is another of her seduction techniques and she’s naked on my bed. I find her in neither place, and I start to panic.
Zach will fucking kill me if I brought her here to protect her and still managed to get her hurt.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I unlock it and open my contacts.
I haven’t got her fucking number.
Furious with myself that I never bothered asking for it, I immediately pull up Titch’s name and call him in the hope Danni will have her number, seeing as they’re technically sisters.
It takes longer than I would like and more explaining than I have time for, but eventually I get her number along with a grilling from Titch about not telling Zach yet.
I know he’s right. I should have just told him on the phone, but I didn’t, and now here we are.
I hang up the second he rattles the number off to me and immediately dial it.
It rings and rings as I pace back and forth through the living area and kitchen, trying to dispel the dread that’s sitting heavier and heavier in my stomach with each passing second.
Eventually, her voicemail kicks in and I hang up. I figure that there’s no point in leaving one asking if she’s okay when she clearly can’t answer the fucking thing.
My fingers grip my phone painfully as I try to figure out what to do.
She’s probably fine, a little voice in my head tries to convince me. But no matter how many times I hear the words, I don’t believe them for a second.
I told her not to leave.
I told her not to fucking leave, yet once again she’s done the fucking opposite.
My teeth grind as my nails dig into my palms.
What the fuck am I meant to do? Watch the news and wait to hear that a young woman’s body has been found dead in the fucking Thames?
Falling onto the sofa, I try to come up with a plan, but short of searching the city with a population of somewhere near nine fucking million for one girl, all I can think is that I’m just going to have to wait.
Aside from Danni and Zach, I have no idea who any of her friends are… or where she hangs out, that’s not the squat or the club.
That thought causes a lightbulb to go off. I call Pulse and ask to speak to Dakota, but she quickly assures me that she’s not seen or heard from Kas since she terminated her employment the previous night.
I could go back to the squat, but then what if she turns up back here perfectly fine while I’m gone?
“Fucking hell.” Why did I get involved in the first place?
It would have been so much fucking easier just to walk out of Pulse on Friday night and forget that I ever saw her there.
Sitting forward,
