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I stare at the place where her shoes were as I wait for my brain to catch up. It’s like I can’t think straight, like I can’t really process what’s happening right now. It’s an out of body experience for a minute where I try to make sense of what’s happening as if I’m looking over my own shoulder at the place where the shoes should be.

Thank God I’m not one of those asshole parents who yells at my kid to put her shoes away or I might not have noticed they were gone. They’re always right there next to the door, spaced out since she kicks them off as she walks in, and I’ve tripped over them more than once since she moved in only two weeks ago.

Jesus.

How has it only been two weeks? It feels like a lifetime has passed.

My brain finally catches up, though I refuse to admit it’s any sort of processing speed issue, and my eyes focus on the front door lock.

I always lock it after I get in the house, but it’s unlocked. She snuck out the goddamn front door to go…somewhere. But where?

Maybe she’s close. Maybe there’s no reason to panic.

I run around the perimeter of the house. I check the yard, behind the bushes, the garage…everywhere, and I just feel like I’m wasting precious seconds.

I pull my phone out of my pocket. In a panic, I dial Evan’s number first.

“Hey, Woods, what’s going on?” he answers.

“Harper’s missing. Have you seen her?” My voice doesn’t sound like my voice. I hear the fear in it, and that spurs me into action. I grab my car keys and slide into the Mercedes. I’ll fucking drive around until I find her.

“She’s missing? What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s not here in the house. I went upstairs to get her from her room when dinner arrived, and she wasn’t there. Her shoes are gone.”

I fire up the car but sit there for a second. I don’t want to not be here when she gets home. Maybe she just went for a walk. But wouldn’t she tell me if she did?

“Oh shit,” he murmurs. “What can we do?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t even know what I should be doing. I’m going to go look for her.”

“Where?” he asks.

“The school? She likes the school…” I trail off.

“It’s a four-mile drive from your place, dude. You really think she knows the way there?”

“I have no idea but I have to try something.”

“Does she have a phone?” he asks. “You can check her location that way.”

“No, no phone,” I say as my tires squeal down my driveway. But you better believe I’m getting her one now and I’m fucking gluing it to her. Or maybe a chip to track her location.

Okay, I know that’s potentially going overboard, but anxiety is ripping down my spine as I fear I’ve already fucked this thing up only two weeks in. It’s on me. Whatever the reason is that she left…it’s on me.

She couldn’t have gone too far. She was only upstairs maybe an hour or two at most, and now she’s probably hungry and maybe scared and fuck fuck fuck .

“I’m on my way, okay?” Evan says. “Trudy and I are both here for you, whatever you need. Call the police, too. File a missing person’s report.”

“Can you do that for me? I need to drive,” I say.

“You got it. I’ll call the police then I’ll be on my way to help search for her.”

“Thanks, man.” I cut the call as I try to figure out who else to call, but my eyes are focused on the road and the sidewalks as I make my way toward the school. It’s dark out, and it’s hard to see, and fucking hell, what if somebody took her? What if she’s hurt or in danger or scared right now?

What did I do to fuck this all up?

Oh, right.

I told her not to contact Hartley outside of school hours. I used a bad word. I raised my voice, and I told her we should look at different schools again.

I feel like I can’t do anything right. Maybe I can’t. I’m struggling here. Life changed overnight for her, but it changed overnight for me, too, and I’ve been feeling my way through this like I’m walking through the darkness with my hands stretched out in front of me, but then I miss something right underneath me because I can’t fucking see and that’s what takes me down.

I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to raise a kid or how to parent or how to be there for somebody besides myself.

I think about calling my father. Would he even know what to do? He’s a smart man, but being a smart man doesn’t equate to being a good father. But this is his granddaughter, and I know he bonded with her once he found out she was my kid even though he couldn’t say anything about it.

I pull into the school parking lot and glance around. It’s quiet and peaceful here tonight, with not even a breeze moving the swing set or rustling the trees, and it looks deserted as an elementary school should look on a weekend evening.

My heart sinks. I have no idea what to do. I don’t know where to turn next. My stomach twists and a loud voice in my brain reminds me that I knew I couldn’t do this. I jumped in headfirst and tried, but I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing here.

Feeling sorry for myself isn’t the right thing to do, but I’m really not sure where to turn next.

I stare helplessly at my phone, debating whether or not to call my father and admit I fucked up when my phone rings.

I don’t recognize the number, and the first thought that crosses my mind is that it’s someone calling with a ransom demand to get my daughter back.

I’ve been watching too many true crime shows, I think.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hi Travis, it’s Victoria Hartley.”

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Like I need more shit from her when my daughter is missing. Is she fucking kidding me right now?

Before I get the chance to come up with some witty remark about how she must really want me if she’s calling my personal number the night after the kiss that never should have happened, she starts talking.

“Harper is here with me. She’s safe.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” I let out a heavy breath as the tension in my chest eases at her words, but different emotions move into its place—namely relief fused with fury. “She’s there with you? Safe?”

“Yes.”

“And she’s okay?” I ask, my teeth gritted together as I try to keep calm.

“She’s upset, but she’s okay.”

I stare ahead of me at the school. “Where are you?”

“Home. Well, Mandy’s apartment. I’m staying with her for now.”

My curiosity is piqued as to why that’s her current situation, but there are more pressing matters at hand than Victoria Hartley’s living situation. “Can I talk to her?”

She clears her throat. “She’s in the bathroom now, but I, uh, think it’d probably be better if you just came to get her. She was practically hyperventilating with sobs when she started banging on my door, and she said she didn’t know where else to go.”

“How did she know where you live?” I ask.

“I think she used some app where she could find her friends,” she says. “Do you want me to bring her home?”

“Text me the address. I’m on my way now to come get her.” I cut the call, text Evan that I found her, and the address comes through a few beats later. So my kid can’t fucking read, but she can use her apps to track down where her reading teacher lives?

That kid is real fucking smart, that’s for damn sure.

It’s not far from my place, so I turn the car around and drive back toward home.

In fact, I drive by this very apartment complex nearly every single day since it’s less than a mile from my place, and now when I drive by I’ll remember the fear of the time my little girl ran from me.

I race over to Victoria’s place, and my heart hammers in my chest as I walk from the Mercedes toward apartment two-sixteen, the one she sent me in the text.

I’m not sure if my heart is hammering because I have to deal with my runaway kid or if it’s because I’m about to see Hartley again.

A combination of both, I suppose, but I don’t really want Hartley to be affecting me this way.

I don’t want any of this to be my reality, yet here we are.

I raise my hand and knock three times, and then I wait.