Page 32 of Not that Impressed (Houston Pumas #3)

ELLIE

The rainy streets are like rivers of dirty water. I want to be out there, going door to door to the hotels and showing them my sister’s picture, but I can’t. I’d have to swim to every spot.

Ellie

Libby. Please just let me know you’re okay.

Like every text I’ve sent since we landed, there’s no notification that it’s delivered.

If Libby’s phone is dead, why hasn’t she charged it?

Fear keeps snaking its way heavily through my stomach, even when I try to banish it with Will’s reassurances.

Grayson and Libby must be holed up somewhere in this mess too.

They’re not out sightseeing or anything in the rain.

I press a hand to my forehead. Unless they did go out on the ocean and now they’re shipwrecked!

Will’s hand finds my arm. “What’s the last hotel you called?

” he asks, gesturing to my laptop on the desk in our hotel room.

I don’t know how he always senses when I’m spiraling, but he’s been doing this the last few hours—coming to stand by me, touching my arm, giving me a hug—whenever I’m about to convince myself that all hope is lost.

“This one.” I point to a name on the screen.

He leans over and kisses my forehead, dialing the number for the next hotel on the list. Mom and Janelle created the list, and they’ve been working on calling all the hotels since early this morning.

They sent me the list of Cancun hotels for Will and me to work on when we retreated to the hotel because of the rain.

It goes faster for me than the other three since I know Spanish, but most of the hotels in resort towns like Cancun have someone who can speak English.

We’re calling the cheaper hotels first. Grayson probably isn’t destitute, but he also hasn’t played for a team since last season.

It’s unlikely he whisked Libby off to an all-inclusive, high-end resort.

So far none of the hotels we’ve called have guests under either Hollis or Libby’s name.

Not that they’re disclosing to us anyway.

I can’t help but be worried that we’re wasting our time.

I check the social media post I made earlier about Libby.

It’s been shared thousands of times already, thankfully, but most of the comments are well-wishes that everything turns out okay or my fans begging Libby to call me.

There’re also the trolls who’ve come out to accuse my parents of horrible parenting and me of making things up for popularity, but I’m used to ignoring those.

My assistant will skim through any DMs that come in and let me know if they have information that helps us, but there’s nothing new from her either.

Instead of calling the next hotel on the list, I call Janelle.

“Anything?” she asks as a way of hello.

“Nothing.” I’m hoping Libby’s ignoring me now because I didn’t chill like she told me to last night. “Have you heard anything from Dad?”

“The FBI has searched every flight that left Houston since the last time Mom saw Libby, but neither one of them has been on any of them.” Janelle sounds as wrung out as I feel.

“They don’t think it’s likely that Grayson has fake IDs, but they’re not ruling it out.

Dad pushed them to check into private flights, but they want to focus resources locally. They don’t think they left Texas.”

My stomach sinks. “Are we looking in the wrong place?” Arms wrap me up from behind, and Will holds me securely against his chest. I lean my head back into him. The fear and worry and anger tighten in my chest, swelling in my throat.

I can’t do this. What if she’s not okay? What if we don’t find her?

“Libby told us she was in Cancun.” Janelle’s voice takes on a firm tone. “We have to investigate that, and look into Cabo. Just in case.”

“Yeah.” I nod to myself. Grayson likely has connections to people with private planes. It’s not far-fetched to think that he flew them out of Texas under the radar like that.

“El? Let me talk to Will, okay? Put it on speaker.”

I hit the speaker phone button and hand the phone over to him. “What’s up?” he asks.

“She needs a break,” Janelle says. “Have you guys slept at all?”

“No, and I agree.”

“Nell!” I protest. “I can sleep when we’ve found Libby.”

“Will,” she goes on, as though I haven’t said anything. “She’s overwhelmed, and she needs to clear her head. Convince her. We’ll keep working on the hotels from here, and since you guys can’t get around anywhere right now anyway, it’s okay to take a quick break. I’ll call you when we find her.”

I suck in a breath at the way she worded that. When .

Will leans his head against mine. We’ve gone from enemies to a couple faster than a Bachelor episode, and I don’t hate it. The way it feels when he grips my hand or kisses me on the temple or hugs me is more than soothing in this stressful situation—it makes me crave more.

“Promise me you’ll get some rest, El,” Janelle insists.

“Okay,” I say.

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

We hang up, and when I stand there, staring at the blank screen, Will lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed, laying me down gently.

Then he slides onto the bed next to me and pulls me against him.

I nestle my face into his chest and fully exhale as he wraps an arm around my back.

His t-shirt is buttery soft against my cheek, and I run my hands up his chest and grip it like that will keep me grounded in the moment.

But it’s him keeping me grounded. It’s him keeping me from panicking. I close my eyes and breathe him in.

“I’m so scared,” I whisper.

Will curls himself over me in a protective way. “It’s the exhaustion talking,” he says softly. “Get some sleep. Things will seem better in a few hours, I promise.”

I shake my head. “How can I sleep? How can I close my eyes when she’s out there with him somewhere? He’s horrible and maybe he’s even worse than we think.” The things that have run through my head today terrify me.

“There’s something my mom used to tell me when I was back in high school.” He speaks in a slow, methodical way, like the sleep podcasts I sometimes listen to when my mind is racing.

“What?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.

“You can’t tell the future.” He brushes his fingers along my back lightly in rhythmic strokes. “If you’re going to make up stories, they might as well be happy ones.”

“What kind of pessimistic stories did teenage Will tell himself?” My words are slow and sluggish. I try to picture him younger but it’s impossible. Wrapped up in him like this, my brain will only conjure a muscled Will Pemberton with shaggier hair.

“That I would have to go to a junior college. That a good D-one school wouldn’t pick me. That I was too small.” He says each phrase lazily.

I can’t help a small laugh. “Too small.”

“I was a mere two-hundred pounds, and it felt impossible to gain weight.”

“A real tragedy. ”

He chuckles lowly, sending a shiver through me. “I managed to overcome my trials.”

“You work hard—” A large yawn interrupts me. “Every day.”

“Mmmmm,” he murmurs. “I set goals and I’m undeterred. That’s how I know we’ll find Libby.”

My breathing slows with each languid word. “How can I be falling for you so quickly when I hated you so much before…”

“You never hated me, Ellie Bennet,” he says, his lips against my temple. “You just didn’t know me yet.” His words blur and slide together as I drift off to sleep, safe and comforted in his arms.

Comment thread on Ellie.Bennet.IRL ’s post:

@kategirl93: Did anyone notice that after begging Ellie for a collab for weeks, @Mr.Colin just unfollowed her??

@pumaprincess598: Probably thinks what happened to Libby is bad press.

@jenniebakesandreads: Pretty sure there’s a reason Ellie didn’t agree to one…

@kategirl93: FIVE STAR TOOL.

@sue_loves_football: Her real friends are standing by her.

@bennetfanz100: Rally the troops. Now we all unfollow him. #bennetsistersforever