Page 50 of Scout

Just for a little bit longer.

Kendrix

"Scout?" I call, stepping inside. He should be out of the shower by now and I was thinking we could do some sightseeing, maybe go on a hike up the mountain.

Nothing.

The bathroom door is cracked open, but it’s empty. No towel on the rack and the shampoo bottles are moved. The shower definitely was running not long ago since the walls and floor are still wet.

My stomach drops. "Scout?"

Xavier moves past me, eyes scanning the living space, his brows pulling tighter by the second. "Scout? You in here?"

Still nothing.

“What the fuck..." I whisper.

We check every room. I open the front door, step onto the porch. I don’t know what I expect, maybe to see him sitting on the step, calling Juniper, getting some air. But the gravel driveway is empty. The woods are still. There’s nothing but pine trees and the echo of my own panic growing louder by the second.

Xavier rushes back to the kitchen and checks the counter. "Did he leave a note? Maybe he ran to town for something."

I shake my head. "No. I don’t see anything." Then my phone buzzes with a text. I look at it blinking, like it’s a two-headed snake.

“What?” Xavier asks.

I hold my phone out to him, my expression unreadable.

Scout: Thanks for letting me pretend. If only for a little bit.

It’s like the wind was knocked from me. I draw my hand back and look at the message again, reading it over and over again. But the words don’t change. They just stay there on the screen. Final. Heartbreaking.

“Call him,” Xavier commands.

I do, putting it on speakerphone and listen, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“I’ll try too.”

Same thing.

We both try again.

No answer. No texts. Nothing.

"He's gone. His stuff's gone,” Xavier murmurs, dropping to the couch.

“Maybe he just… went into town?” I say, even though it feels like a lie the second it leaves my mouth. “Needed some space or something. Maybe he’s at a motel. Maybe—maybe he just needed air and didn’t want to talk right now.”

Xavier’s already halfway to the front door again, keys in hand. “Let’s go check.”

We do. We drive down the winding road in silence, hearts thudding, as if something’s chasing us. Everything feels too quiet, too still. The forest hums with absence. Itknowshe’s gone.

The motel hasn’t had anyone new check in since Thursday. The gas station clerk shrugs and says he hasn’t seen anyone matching Scout’s description. The bakery girl offers us a pitying smile and a free muffin when we look too defeated to explain why we’re asking.

But no one’s seen him.

He’s not here.

We pack up. There’s no point staying in a place that suddenly feels haunted.