Page 33 of Ordinary Secrets (Secrets Trilogy #1)

33

TREY

A yellow Sunrise Daycare T-shirt and the angel-wings necklace—that’s what Arella wore when she left for work earlier. It’s her first day back to work since the spider incident. No matter what I said to encourage her to stay, she wasn’t having it.

When she said she needed to work so she could make rent, I offered her triple the money. She still wasn’t having it. Leave it to me to find the most difficult woman in the world to fall for. Any other person would have accepted that offer in a heartbeat. Not Arella. I guess I got my wish when I told Liz that I wanted someone to want me for something other than my money.

The only reason I didn’t keep pushing Arella to stay was because she told me that Nathan used to use money to control her. He’d make her dependent on him and his daddy’s money as a way to hold power over her. That’s nowhere near why I’m offering her money, but I can understand why she feels the need to make her own. So, that’s why I’m heading to work today—alone.

“You ’ight, bro?” Marcus slaps a palm over my shoulder in the middle of our writing session. “You been quiet, and now you be hella red in the face.”

The rest of our band turns their attention to me, and their concern soars through my mind. I must look sick. I definitely feel it. A minute ago, my chest started burning out of nowhere. Now I’m getting nauseous and my arms feel numb.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

I push through another two minutes before the dizziness takes over. As the room spins, my guitar slides off my lap and clanks to the floor. Emmy shrieks, and it makes the migraine in my head blister.

“You wanna lay down, man?” Kevin asks, picking up the guitar for me.

Nausea rises up my throat. Am I about to... Yep, I am. I rush behind the mini bar and find a trash can just in time to heave into it. I cough as the vomit leaves my throat. Then I heave again. I feel everyone’s eyes on me as I throw up my lunch.

When I think it’s done, I tie a knot into the trash bag and replace it with a new one. Then I rinse my mouth out under the sink faucet. I was right. My bandmates are gaping at me.

“Are you guys cool with finishing this song without me?” I ask. “I’ma head home.”

“Of course, T,” Liz says.

“Yeah, go get some rest,” Emmy adds.

As I mount my motorcycle, I check the time. Arella got off work twenty minutes ago, and she planned to meet me here. She’s probably already on her way, so I call her. The phone rings to her voicemail. I end the call and shoot her a text.

Hey, babe. I’m not feeling well, so I’m leaving work early. Can you meet me at home instead?

I ride for about fifteen minutes with a splitting headache before I pull over to call her again. I end up at her voicemail... again. This time, I leave a message.

“Hey, angel. I’m heading home because I don’t feel well. Just letting you know so you don’t go to the Soul House and expect me there. I’ll see you at home, ’kay?”

I wish there was a way to know if someone’s listened to your voicemail. I check my messages again to see if Arella has read my text. It still says delivered , not read .

In my missed-calls log is a call from Victor from five minutes ago. Whatever he’s got to say can wait, because right now, I’m too focused on figuring out where Arella is. I know we didn’t leave things on the best note this morning, but she wouldn’t ghost me, would she?

I ride for another ten minutes before I get impatient and pull off to the shoulder again. After I yank my helmet off, I Google the number for Sunrise Daycare. Someone picks up on the third ring.

“Sunrise. Javina speaking.”

“Javina, it’s Trey. Is Arella there?” I don’t know what I’m hoping for. Maybe for her to tell me that Arella got held up and she’s just finishing up work. Maybe that one of the kids is pulling a bad prank on her by hiding her phone, and she’s running around looking for it as we speak. I would have accepted anything except the answer I actually get.

“Sorry, pretty boy. Ari left when her shift ended.”

“Thanks.” I hang up.

I call Liz, and she picks up right away. “Hey, T-Bear. You okay?”

Not really... My nausea has gotten worse, and it’s not like Arella to not answer her phone. “Is Arella there?”

“Nope, why?”

“Dammit.” I slap a hand against my handlebars as I hang up. Where is she?

A thought stops my heart. What if this is her way of leaving me? She’s had enough of me hiding shit from her, and she’s probably at my house, packing her stuff up right now. When I get home, her drawer will be empty, her side of the closet will be too, and I’ll never see her again.

Please don’t let that be it . . .

With my helmet back on, I race home. Her car isn’t in my driveway. As I dismount my bike, my heart pounds against my lungs like fists against a sandbag. Thump, thump, thump. I rush inside, shouting for her.

“Babe? You here?”

Silence.

I wrench her drawer open so hard, it comes out of the nightstand. My nausea settles a tiny bit when I find her things still here. I don’t even bother putting the drawer back in. I’ve got more important things to do—like find my girl.

Maybe she’s at her apartment. Maybe she’s surprising me by packing up her things to bring here. Even as I think that, I know it’s unlikely. Still, I climb back onto my bike and head to her place.

It feels like forever getting through traffic. When I finally arrive at Arella’s apartment complex, her car is missing from the parking lot.

I knock on her door and wait all of two seconds before I point a finger at the lock and let myself in. The place smells of ripe chemicals and cleaning supplies. At least it’s spider-less. Unfortunately, it’s also Arella-less.

“Babe?” I yell, just in case.

Nobody answers.

I head into her bedroom and find zero signs that she’s been around. Where could she be?

I jump when my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a number I don’t recognize. Usually, I don’t answer unknown numbers, but... “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Trey Grant?” asks a calm female voice I’ve never heard before.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m Sara Benson, a nurse at the LA Community Hospital. I’m calling on behalf of Miss Arella Rance. She wanted me to tell you where she is.”

My lungs tighten. “Why couldn’t she call me herself?”

“I’m afraid she’s in no condition to?—”

“What happened?”

“I . . . I, um, can’t tell you exactly.”

“Why not?” I shout, and I don’t care that it’s rude.

Sara is unfazed. She replies in the same calm tone. “Because I don’t know all the details. I wasn’t here when she was admitted up from the ER. I was just told to call you.”

“The ER?” I shout again. “What?”

“Look, all I know is that she was brought in by ambulance.”

“Ambulance?” I can’t breathe.

“She’s on floor two. You’re welcome to come here and speak to the doctor in charge of?—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”