Page 15 of Code Word (The Atrous #3)

“Blake, darling, are you sure? I thought I saw something about Luke on that entertainment show, you know the one. I thought it was all lies like it usually is, so I didn’t think much of it. I thought you’d know where he is. You always know.”

“What about him?” I asked, sitting up straighter. “Mom, the TV show. What did it say?”

“I just caught the end of it. I thought it said he was spotted at some beach town by himself. Love, I’m not sure.

Someone took a photo, but you know I don’t like those paparazzi jerks, and maybe it was Photoshopped.

They can Photoshop someone in anywhere nowadays, and I just assumed it was lies because you two are always together. ”

I couldn’t process what she was saying, not really hearing her, too busy rummaging through the desk drawer for the TV remote. The big screen at the end of the room blinked on and I began searching channels.

“Mom, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

I ended the call, concentrating on the screen, finding that stupid show I’d always fucking hated. The one that posted unsolicited photos for a cheap headline, that printed garbage, whether it was true or not, for clickbait and ratings.

The show was over, airing again in an hour, so I tried searching online for what Mom might have seen.

Nothing.

Not one thing.

There were photos of me, taken earlier today in the record store. I barely recognized myself in those photos; that smile wasn’t my own. The two girls who’d helped me had written a post on Instagram that I’d been sweet and polite – but he didn’t seem himself .

Whatever the fuck that meant.

Like they knew me.

They didn’t know the first thing about the real me.

Their post had twenty thousand likes and hundreds of comments. I searched for any mention of Luke and his new location, but there was nothing.

Plenty of comments about how Luke and Vana had broken up and how the real Bluke had a chance. If they could only get rid of Becca.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I hated them all.

Becca never deserved any of that, and I was surprised she’d stuck by me as long as she had.

I remembered thinking how Luke hadn’t looked truly happy since Becca and I got together and realizing now how much I’d hurt him.

Being surrounded by all these photos, and the damn song he’d written, wasn’t helping. Or maybe it was helping me the most.

Helping me see what I should have seen before.

Not just how he looked at me, how he clung to me, how he was always by my side.

But also how I looked at him, how easy I’d held onto him, put my arm around him—how I’d clung to him—and how blind I’d been.

I’d taken him for granted.

And I’d hurt him so fucking bad.

Seeing those early photos of us, seeing his grin, the light in his eyes. How happy he’d been.

Remembering how unhappy he’d been when I’d last seen him at the cabins .

When he’d asked me for space.

For time.

I heard someone in the house, a door closing, then a faint, “Blake?”

Jeremy.

I didn’t have the energy to reply. Sitting on the floor, clutching the damn song lyrics, surrounded by Luke’s photo collection of the years I’d hurt him.

I didn’t want Jeremy to see me like this. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. And I didn’t want them to see Luke’s photos. I didn’t want them to see that I was the one to blame.

That this was all my fault.

“Blake?” his voice was louder now.

So I began to scoop up the photos, and I didn’t even realize I was still crying until Jeremy was too blurry to see at the door.

“Blake,” he whispered.

I sobbed. “Please, don’t.”

Don’t look at me with pity.

Don’t look at the photos.

Don’t look at how much I’d hurt him.

“In here!” Jeremy yelled out the door, to Steve, I assumed. He came in and knelt beside me. “Blake, buddy. What’s going on?”

“I found these,” I said, still trying to scoop up photos and magazine clippings. “On the floor, like this. I didn’t put them here.”

He put his hand on my arm, but I shrugged it off. “This is all my fault,” I sobbed. “No one will tell me where he is, and I know I fucked up. You said I should see why everyone thought we were real, and look.” I shoved a handful of photos at him, the song.

He took the photos, saw the lyrics with my name, shaking his head, looking sad and concerned .

Maybe he should be, because I felt like I was losing my actual fucking mind. I scrubbed at my face again, just as someone else came into the room.

I expected Steve.

And it was. And Roscoe. With Maddox right behind him.

I didn’t want to see him.

He was the last fucking person I wanted to see.

I scoffed and looked away, already feeling the worst I’d ever felt.

“Blake,” Maddox murmured.

I snatched the lyric page from Jeremy. “Don’t fucking speak to me,” I said, my anger surprising everyone but me.

Maddox looked shocked and offended. “I don’t know what I did,” he tried.

“You know where he fucking is,” I yelled. “Why he left me. He’ll talk to you but not to me. Did you tell him to go?”

Then Becca was at the door.

She took one look at me and her face fell. “Oh, Blake,” she whispered, coming in. She kneeled beside me, her gentle hand on my shoulder. “Your mom called me, Blake. She’s really worried.”

I pulled away, burying my face in my hands. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Or him. I didn’t know. I was so fucking stupid.”

“It’s not your fault,” she tried.

“Uh, maybe we—” Maddox began.

I was on my feet in a second, pointing at Maddox, the crumpled lyrics page in my hand.

“Maybe you could fuck off. Maybe you can just say it outright. You’ll help him because he’s realized he ain’t as straight as he thought he was, but I’m not worth a second fucking thought.

Because why, Maddox? Just fucking say it. ”

Roscoe put his hand up, stepping closer. “Okay, how about we all take a second here? ”

I tried to take a deep breath but couldn’t quite manage it. “Roscoe, stay out of it. Please.”

I took a step back, trying to breathe. “So some things have been made very fucking clear to me. That I have no one. Not him, not any of you.”

“Blake,” Jeremy tried, eyes glassy. “That’s not true. Of course you do.”

“Then tell me why my whole world is ripped apart and no one gives a fuck?” I yelled. “The person I love most in this world won’t look at me or speak to me. I don’t know where he is.”

“Because he’s in love with you,” Maddox said. “And he’s trying not to be.”

I thumped my chest, tears streaming down my face, my chest tight. “And I love him.”

They all stared.

“I do. I always have,” I said, sucking back a sob. “I was too fucking stupid to realize.”

Maddox sighed. “Oh, Blake.”

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare. You wanna care now? Am I the right kind of queer for you to give a fuck now?”

“That’s not fair,” Roscoe murmured.

“No, it’s fucking not!” I yelled at him.

“Ah, Blake,” Becca said.

I was too busy glaring at Maddox.

“Blake, it’s Luke,” she said again, staring at the TV screen. I followed her line of sight.

“...from the band Atrous, spotted by himself at a beach northeast of Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.”

It was a mostly grainy picture of Luke walking, the blue water behind him, a wooden bar or cabana off to one side.

“Rumored to have split from his girlfriend of two years, Luke Dougherty was spotted by himself, no security, no other Atrous band members with him. Begs the question: just where is Blake Acosta? ”

My heart stopped.

Cabo. Mexico.

He was in fucking Mexico.

I turned to Becca as her eyes met mine, as wide and what the fuck as I’m sure mine were. “Mexico,” I whispered.

She nodded. “Your passport’s in the safe,” she said. “Go get it, and I’ll drive you to the airport.”

Helplessly, I looked at the mess still on the floor, and Becca gripped my arm, making me look at her. “Leave it,” she said. “Blake. Passport. Now.”

I nodded and had to make my legs walk me out of the room but barely got to the hall before hearing her speak.

“You knew and never told anyone. Do you have any idea what it’s been like for him?

He could barely get off the fucking floor.

His mom called me because he was sobbing, and not one of you gave a fuck. ”

I heard one of them mumble something, but Becca wasn’t having it.

“Oh, it was hard for you? Really, Maddox? I’m his ex -girlfriend, about to drive him to the airport so he can tell my brother he loves him because he’s finally figured it out! So help me, Jesus Christ, I will kick Luke’s ass when I see him.”

Then Becca made a frustrated sound and appeared in the hall. She stopped when she saw me standing there and she clapped her hands. “Blake. Passport. Now. Fuck.”

“Yes.” I nodded and turned, walking toward Luke’s office, moving faster now.

To get my passport so I could go to Luke.

I all but ran into the office, opened the safe, and found my passport, by itself, next to the space Luke’s should have been.

“I should have looked here first,” I mumbled.

“We both should have,” Bec said beside me. “I didn’t know he was out of the country. Mom didn’t know either. So when you see him, tell him he’s in big trouble.”

When I see him . . .

I was going to see him soon.

I nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She sighed, stepped past me, and closed the safe door because, apparently, I’d forgotten how to be an adult. “Need to pack a bag?”

I folded the lyrics page and stuffed it into my wallet. “No. Wallet, phone, passport. That’s all I need.”

I’m pretty sure she considered arguing for half a second, but in the end, she shrugged. “Okay. Get in the car.”

Bec’s car was parked out front and we ran to it. Steve chased after us. “Blake, you can’t just go,” he yelled out. “Not without some kind of security backup. People know where Luke is now.”

I spared him a look—Steve had always meant well, and he’d always looked after us—but we weren’t Atrous anymore. Jeremy was right behind him, so I shook my head, got in the car, and Bec sped down the drive.

“Cabo,” she said, barely slowing down for the gate to open all the way.

“Uh, watch the side?—”

“I’ll watch the road; you search flights. Flights to Cabo, Blake.”

Oh, right.

Jesus.

I thumbed in a quick search, not really knowing what I was looking for. “Um, so here’s a fun fact for you. I’ve never actually booked my own flight before.”

She stared at me, far longer than necessary, given she didn’t slow down at all. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve never booked my own flights before. The company did it, or Amber. And when we flew to Jamaica that time, you took care of all that.”

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbled.

“What? I’ve had someone doing every single thing for me since I was sixteen. Same as Luke. We never had to do anything ourselves. I didn’t even buy my Range Rover. I picked out which one I liked online, and Amber organized it. I just paid for it.”

Pretty sure I paid for it . . .

It wasn’t like we could go anywhere with the fans or the papzz following us, or stalking, as the case usually was.

Amber, as Luke’s and my manager, organized everything.

That got me thinking... She still worked for Platinum.

“Hey, Siri,” I said. “Call Amber.”

Bec shot me a look as the phone rang, but then Amber’s familiar voice broke the silence. “Blake Acosta. Not a number I was expecting to see today.”

“Yeah, hey, Amber. Sorry to call out of the blue. I’m calling to ask a favor.”

There was a beat of silence. “Okay.”

“I need you to get me on the next flight to Cabo.”

Another beat of silence. “Blake, is there any reason?—”

“Luke disappeared, and apparently that’s where he is.”

Her tone was sharp. “He what?”

I almost snorted. Because I knew that tone. That was her what-the-fuck tone. I’d heard it a lot over the years. Hell, I was the reason for a lot of those years. “I was kinda wondering if you knew anything about that. But I’m guessing not.”

“What? Why would I...” She stopped. “I haven’t spoken to him in, well, since Atrous...”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“What do you mean he disappeared?”

“He... he left me. He needed to go somewhere where I wasn’t, and apparently that was Mexico. We saw it on Entertainment Today or whatever the fuck it’s called. Someone photographed him there. I need to go there. Today. I’m on the way to the airport right now.”

She mumbled something to someone, then I heard the tapping of a keyboard. “Okay. You’re gonna have to explain the whole ‘he left me’ part of that at another time.”

For some stupid reason, I had to blink back tears. “Yeah, sure. I just need to get there today and I’ve never actually booked flights before.”

“Please tell me you have your passport.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, you’re probably not going to like this,” she said, and I had an awful feeling she was about to say there were no flights at all.

“But there’s nothing private going. There’s not even first class or business on commercial.

But I can get you on a flight that leaves in.

.. jeez, just over an hour. Can you make that? ”

I looked at Becca and she winced and nodded. “Just hope the TSA line isn’t long.”

“The ticket’s in economy,” Amber added.

I didn’t care.

“I’ll take it.”