Carson
Carson
F red is showered and dressed without any prompting from me. He’s growing up, and I can’t say I’m sorry about that. It definitely makes mornings easier.
“Can I hang out at Mason’s tonight? I’ll just go straight over there after school.”
“That’s fine. I’ll text Kent and make sure?—”
“Mason already asked them. They said it was cool if I stayed.” He bobs his head, emphasizing their approval.
“Sure. Why don’t you pack a bag right now, and I’ll drop it off this afternoon.”
“Okay.” He takes off for the bedroom.
I yank on my boots, then reach for my phone. It’s not in my pocket. Have I even had it at all since waking up? I start the hunt for my phone. It’s not on my nightstand, which is where I normally keep it during the night.
“Fred, have you seen my phone?”
He walks out of his room, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Not since last night. It was in the kitchen.”
And there it is, plugged into a charger on the counter. But I have no memory of putting it there. My fitful sleep is making me lose my mind.
We have breakfast in the mess hall. Then Poppy takes the boys to school. That’s become a Friday routine, one that I love because it makes life easier all around. And Fred loves it because she treats them to donuts.
I tackle assorted chores before lunch, and after lunch, Kent and I spend the afternoon mending fences. We don’t talk about my dating life, or lack thereof. When we’re finished, we climb into my truck.
“On the way to your place, I’m going to swing by my house and grab Fred’s bag since he’s staying with y’all tonight.”
“I hadn’t heard about that, but sure.”
I make a mental note to talk to Fred about the importance of having the parents’ approval before arranging sleepovers. “Sorry. He said y’all knew.”
“Maybe they talked to Poppy.”
When we get to Kent’s, I walk with him to the door.
Poppy pulls it open. “Hey, y’all. Can I get you coffee and something to hold you until dinner?”
“Coffee sounds great.” Kent hangs up his hat, then leans in for a kiss. “Carson brought Fred’s bag over since he’s apparently spending the night.”
Poppy freezes. “He’s not here. I thought he went to y’all’s place.”
My heart starts pounding. “You haven’t seen him?”
“Mason!” Poppy hollers down the hall.
Two seconds later, a very pale Mason is standing in front of me. “Yes, Mom?”
“Where’s Fred?”
Staring at his mom, he shakes his head. “I don’t know. He didn’t get on the bus, but he said he wouldn’t tell me where he was going or who he was meeting because I wouldn’t be able to keep a secret. He’s right, though.” Mason turns to face me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you he wasn’t on the bus.”
Panic coursing through my body, I wrestle the keys out of my pocket and run to the truck. I’ll start at the school and retrace his steps from there. And if I can’t find him, I’ll involve the police. I swallow back the sour taste in my mouth.
I’ve shown that I’ll do anything for the kid. Why would he run away? There has to be another explanation.