Page 174 of The Surprise Play

Jade’s face flushes and she bites her lips together before putting on a pretty smirk.

Growling in my throat, I’m torn between storming toward them, demanding to know what they did, and chasing after my girl.

But, of course, I have to go for Satch, so I run into the kitchen and notice the back door gaping open.

“Did anyone come through here?” I bark at the kitchen helper who’s just walked in.

She gives me a worried frown. “I’m not sure. Sorry.”

Shit, Satch, where the fuck have you gone?

Groaning, I race out the back door.

“Satch?” I call but get zero reply. The lights from the kitchen are illuminating the rectangular patch of grass back here, and I can’t see her on it. Turning right, I’m about to tear around the side of the house, hoping she hasn’t taken off.

“What just happened?” Sienna appears in the kitchen doorway. “Did someone hurt Satch?”

“I don’t know!” I fling my arms wide. “I can’t find her!”

“Someone said they saw her crying.” Sienna walks down the stairs looking just as worried as I feel.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I run a hand through my hair, trying to think of all the best hiding spots around here.

“Can you check around that side of the house?” I point to my right. “I’ll go this way.”

“Of course.” Sienna veers to her left, and I turn for the driveway again.

Pausing at the edge of the house, I peer into the darkness, wondering if she’s hiding behind a car… and that’s when I hear a whimper behind me.

Spinning, I run for Zander and Sienna’s sleepout and press my ear against the wood.

A muffled sob reaches me, and I wrench the door open, stepping into the darkness.

“Satch?” I whisper.

“No.” She sobs. “Go away.”

“Baby.” I step forward, kicking my toe on something and grunting while I fumble for the light.

I don’t know where any of the fucking switches are in this place!

Yanking out my phone, I turn on the flashlight and sweep the room until I illuminate my destroyed girlfriend who is sitting on the end of the double bed, her arms wrapped around her as she tries to hold her torn outfit in place.

What the actual FUCK!

Anger rips through me in a wave so toxic, I can barely see straight. Those girls are finished. I fucking swear!

“What happened?” I manage to grit out as I try to approach her slowly and not act like the raging bull I feel like.

Flicking on the lamp beside the bed, I crouch in front of her, taking in the tattered top. Sections of it have been torn apart, leaving her exposed and wounded. And there’s a cut right through the black poodle that had been sewn onto her skirt. The pink fabric is torn right up to the waistband, exposing the layers of petticoat underneath.

“Where’s your jacket?” I reach for her, but she flinches away from me. “What happened?”

She darts a look at me, and that vulnerable gaze is fucking slaying me right now.

She whimpers. “Mom spent hours on this outfit.” Hervoice catches on a sobbing hiccup. It makes me want to fucking cry myself.