“I… I will do that. Just give me some time.”
My head screams that I don’t have time. What if Myah gets into an accident? Or leaves the state before I can find her? Sloane can easily sneak her out of New York. I breathe deeply several times. I must be in a state of calmness before calling her because if there is even a slight possibility that she’s hiding my daughter again, I think I will go crazy.
Andrew and Calvin leave the room, and I pick up my phone. Sloane’s number is still here, and I force myself to press call. Three rings pass before she answered.
“Sloane,” I whisper, not finding any strength to say her name louder.
She stays silent on the other side. I want to keep quiet too, but I remind myself that I’m on a mission. Feelings come last because Myah is my utmost priority. I have to find her and save her from whatever mess she is in.
“Myah is missing,” I breathe. “And if you are hiding her again—”
“I don’t have her, Owen.”
The sound of her voice weakens me. I miss her, and I want her. Still, I can’t let her enchant me again with her charms.
“How can I believe you again? You—”
“Myah’s not with me, Owen.”
Why does she have to keep on saying my name? Does she know what power she has over me? How her lips saying my name drives me crazy?
“But—”
“What the fuck, Owen! This is not a game,” she shouts on the other line. “Believe it or not, I care about Myah so much. I’m not the heartless bitch that you conjured in your mind. And if you have time to throw judgment on me while your daughter is missing, then I’m sorry because I don’t have the time or patience for you to grow up and understand what’s happening. I will look for Myah, and I will find her.”
I want to shout back at her, but I hear a click, and the phone call ends. My logical brain says that it is all a lie — another pretense; she doesn’t care. Sloane will never try to help me find Myah. But the tug in my heart becomes stronger, and it is trying to tell me that Sloane is being honest. She is passionate about finding my daughter. She is sincere about everything.
“Sloane really loves Myah,” I whisper to no one. Then another question appears in my head, but I don’t have the strength to voice it.
Does she love me too?
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Sloane
New York is famous for its sights and foods, and of course, its harsh weather. And I’m fucking freezing and shivering from this chilly spring night. Still, I don’t have the heart to give up. I just can’t. What if this time a bad stranger picks Myah up? What if she gets into an accident and no one is there to help her be safe again? I hate thinking about these scenarios, but I do need them as motivation because the rain may finally wash me away before I even get to see her again.
I have already visited our frequent cafes and the spa we went to before. Nobody has seen her. A gust of wind almost ruins my umbrella. I tug on it, then pull my coat closer. Maybe I should have put on more clothes because the cold is getting to my bones already.
Where is Myah?
“Think, think, think,” I whisper to myself, my teeth chattering in between words.
Where would I go if I were Myah? I smile despite the cold because I begin to remember how different that silly girl is from me. She is brave, willful, and confident. Everything that I can’t be.
I stop before I get into another bout of self-pity. I don’t even have time for that.
“Fucking Owen,” I mutter.
Why didn’t he tell me about this the moment it happened? Is his precious pride that fucking important that he would rather live with the thought that his only daughter is with me than call me about it? Fucking men. Owen, my father - they’re all fucking assholes.
I let the rage overwhelm me, too, because it helps me move forward. I will find Myah before Owen does because, unlike him, I can forget about my hurt ego to see her safe again.
“Central Park,” the thought crosses my mind. Myah loves that place, and I’m pretty sure even though Owen has his resources, they cannot scour every corner of that massive park. And I have an inkling that I will find an answer there. Whether the answer is Myah or just a clue of her whereabouts, I have to check it out.
I turn left and follow 102nd street. The park entrance is just across the street. I step forward, then a taxi honks and flips me a finger. Shit. I need to also focus on where I’m walking. I breathe deeply, and then I watch the cars again before crossing.