Forsaken Desires (The Deepest Desires 2)
chapter thirty-nine
Weston
“Fuck, go away.” My phone keeps ringing, and looking at the clock on my nightstand, it’s fucking after midnight. Who would be calling this late?
The call finally ends, but not even three seconds later, it starts vibrating again. Giving in and rolling over, I grab the phone and see Katie’s name flash on the screen.
Why would she be calling me so late?
“Hello?” My voice is rough with sleep.
“Oh my God, why don’t you fucking answer your phone?”
“Uh… I just did.”
“After I called four fucking times!”
Rolling my eyes, I run my hand through my hair and reposition myself in bed. “What’s up, Katie?”
“Have you talked to Knox?”
“Uh, not today. Why?”
“He was supposed to call me at seven your time, and he never did.”
“Are you really waking me up at midnight because your friend didn’t call you?”
“Yes, Weston, I am. It’s unlike him to not call me when he said he would.” What is she? A jealous girlfriend?
“I’m sure he just got busy, Katie. Not really something to alert the National Guards for.”
“Weston,” she hisses. “He was having dinner with his family.”
“Okay…? Good for him? I had dinner with my family tonight too. Your point?”
“God, are you always such a fucking asshole?”
Sitting up, I scoff at her question. “How am I being an asshole? You’re calling me in the middle of the fucking night to complain about Knox not calling you back. Isn’t it like almost morning where you’re at? I’m not seeing the emergency here, Katie. Enlighten me before I hang up on you and go back to sleep.”
“Ugh! You douchebag idiot! His dad is a fucking asshole, Weston. Why don’t you care?”
“Care? What the fuck are you talking about?”
The line has gone so quiet, I actually pull my phone away from my ear to make sure we’re still connected. “Katie?”
“Oh, God. You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?! Do you always talk in fucking riddles?”
“Weston,” she breathes. “His dad is not a nice man. Like, at all.”
“Okay, how so?” I am so confused, and I’m barely awake enough to comprehend what she could be getting at.
“How have you been friends with him your whole life and you don’t know this? He’s abusive, Weston!” I flinch at that. What the fuck is she saying?
“What?! No, he isn’t. Mr. Finnegan is a hothead, sure, but he’s not violent. Knox would’ve told me”
“Okay, well, sorry, but he did tell me, and I’m worried. Genuinely fucking worried, and I’m all the way across the country and can’t check myself.”
“Okay, give me a bit. I’ll try calling him.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried that?!”
“Okay, fuck, Katie. You’re persistent. I’ll head over there, okay? We only live a few minutes away from each other. I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.”
Climbing out of bed, I dial Knox and put him on speaker while I throw on some clothes. This can’t be true… Can it? He would’ve told me, wouldn’t he? When it goes to voicemail, I hit redial as I get my shoes on.
He doesn’t pick up again.
Grabbing my keys off my dresser, I make my way outside and into my car. He’s probably just passed out, drunk maybe? Or maybe with a chick? I’ll just stop by quickly and check on him. Let Katie know he’s okay.
The drive over takes less than five minutes. Hopping out of the car, I round the side of the house to the backyard where his room is. Knocking several times, there’s no answer. He’s probably sleeping. I reach down, grabbing the spare key that I know to be under the rock and letting myself in. Please don’t let him be balls deep in some random chick.
All the lights are off in here. Wandering in, I check the couch—not there. Head back to the room—also, not there.
He’s not here.
Movement catches my eye outside in the yard—maybe he was in the main house. Heading toward the door, I come face to face with Mr. Finnegan.
“Oh, hi, sir.”
“What are you doing here, Weston?”
“Uh, I haven’t heard from Knox. Wanted to make sure he was okay. Have you seen him?”
“He isn’t here,” he responds in a gruff tone.
It’s dark out here, only a few lights illuminating the yard, but I don’t miss the way his lip is busted. My veins turn ice cold at the realization that Katie could be right.
“He’s not here.” He repeats himself, his tone taking on an edge this time that sends a shiver through me.
“Oh. I see that, but do you know where he is?”
“No, I don’t.” When he answers me, I catch a whiff of liquor on his breath.
“What happened to your lip, sir?”
He brings his fingers up to brush his lip where it’s split. “And your knuckles?”
“You’re a little too nosy for your own good, Weston. Think it’s time for you to go.” With that, he turns and walks back inside his house. And I’m left feeling sick to my stomach.
Holy fucking shit.Katie was right. Where the fuck is Knox, though?