Stir Me (Rouse Me 2)

My shoulders tense. This is no good. But I won't jump to conclusions. I try again.

But again, the phone rings straight to voice mail.

I send a text. Give me a call when you get this. I want to hear your voice.

It's probably okay. It's probably nothing. But, just in case it's not, I call Laurie.

The phone rings straight to voice mail. "You've reached Laurie House. Please leave a message."

Deep breath. "Hey, it's Luke. I can't reach Alyssa. Let me know if you hear from her." I hang up.

It's probably nothing.

It better be nothing.

***

I'm distracted all evening, but I try to give Samantha as much of my attention as I can. She talks about little things--staying with her parents, her wish to return to her job, how sick she is of the only restaurant that delivers to her house.

We order dinner. We drink half a bottle of wine. We watch some show about Lincoln on the history channel. Samantha loves the history channel.

Finally, my phone buzzes. Samantha turns to me, her eyes laser focused on my expression. I nod. This is all going to be fine. And I turn over the phone.

It's a text from Alyssa. Sorry, I was at a movie. Is everything okay?

I reply. Just checking on you.

Her response is quick. I'm fine.

I reply. Did you do the food challenge?

I'm tired. We can talk when you're home on Sunday.

I clench my jaw. She did promise she'd call if she was overwhelmed. I reply. Right. But do me a favor?

No favors.

I reply. Just promise you're okay.

I'm fine. I'll see you Sunday.

There's such a finality to it. I know better than to press her. She's done with this conversation, with any conversation until I'm back in her arms.

My breathing is strained and my back is aching, but I do my best to push it aside. Samantha still needs my help. And I need to repay this debt.

I turn my attention back to Samantha. She's staring at me, as usual, like I'm an idiot.

She nods to the TV. "They're about to get to the good part."

"He's finally executed and the show ends?"

She shakes her head and she holds up her wine glass as if to ask for a refill. "Please."

I nod. Okay. I grab her glass and mine, and push off the floor. It's a short walk to the kitchen. A short walk through this huge, dark, empty house.

There isn't a single speck of dust in the kitchen. There's nothing except a tiny crimson spot next to the bottle of wine. It's going to stain. Her parents are going to yell at the maid.

I wrap my fingers around the glass bottle. Twenty-four more hours and I'll be with Alyssa. Twenty-four more hours.