(Nineteen)

Things we hope we know:

- His phone is dead or lost—we hope he isn't.

- He's spending money—we hope it's not someone else burning it.

- He's in Seattle—we hope, or we haven't got a chance.

Things we don't know:

- Everything.

Six hours later

My heartbeat pulses through every cell in my body. Louder than the bass thudding through the walls. Faster than the wave of sweat-soaked bodies bouncing on the dance floor. It feels like a countdown, as if I'm running out of time. I scan the crowds and come up blank. He's not here, either. I've chased him all over town, longer and harder than any high. No one's heard from him. No one's seen him. He's the invisible man. The elusive catch.

Guilt has tagged along with me, an ever-present sidekick I can't shake. It wonders what and if. I want to punch it till its teeth fall out, until its blood drips. It's not helping.

Eight hours

This is a game of tag. We're racing around, waiting to get the first touch. Only there's no one in sight. Only guesses and futile attempts at trying to understand an addict's motivations. Motivation I should know well.

Round and round we go. Until we all fall down.

Ten

Inside The Blue Jay, faded wallpaper is peeling off the walls, and old neon signs flicker above the bar. It's in need of tender loving care, but that's something you'd never find in this dive. Bruised lips from kisses, punches, or both, are what's usually on offer here.

Benny still holds court behind the bar. Built like a brick shithouse, hairy as a bear, he looks at me like I'm a stranger. I suppose I am. This year, at least.

"Hey, man," I say, and it dawns on him who I am. He pours a shot of Mezcal and shoots it across the bar to me before I can stop him. I catch it, smoky liquid splashes onto my fingers. My hand is halfway to my mouth before I catch myself, drying them on my jeans instead. I thank him and spill it onto the sticky floor when he turns back to slot the bottle back into place.

"You good?" He picks up a glass and runs a grimy rag around its inside.

"Yeah, but I'm not here for me. I'm looking for someone. You know Emmett McCarty?"

He scratches the side of his ragged black bead. "Don't think so. Should I?"

I find the picture Rose sent me and pass my phone over. He looks for a few seconds longer than the moment of non-recognition warrants. They all do. I reckon if the cops wanted to find a murderer, it'd be the one who barely glances at the photos, who doesn't even try. Not Benny. He wants to help, to know Em, but he has to shake his head.

My feet feel heavier the more steps I take without bumping into someone who knows Em. Turns out he wasn't like me, burning around the town like a flare gun, blazing, fucking, and smashing his way into people's memories.

I wish he'd been louder in his destruction. A supernova, rather than a star that flickers out so you can never really be sure it was ever there.

Twelve

Three more bars, two clubs, six hotels. Many faces recognize me. None have seen him. Tick tick tick. Boom.

Sixteen

I end where I began. With Bella. She sits beside me without saying anything. My hands are in my hair, my head low. "I don't know what to do."

"You're doing what you can."

"Am I, though?"

"You're not invincible. You have to sleep."

"I can't sleep." I spit its name out like an enemy.

"You need to get rest. Then you can get back out there tomorrow. A fresh start."

"That's what people say when they know the corpse is already rotting."

Her horror escapes, a creaky sound in her throat. "Edward." She says my name like a warning. "Don't say things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because you're tempting fate."

"Fate is just a word people use to make themselves feel better when life fucks them over."

She snaps her teeth down over whatever response she really wants to say. "You're tired."

It's more like disappointment. I'm spoiling for a fight.

A day later

I'm following my own trail. I didn't leave breadcrumbs, but my mind won't let me forget.

The newly renovated Amble Inn, maybe they didn't think it looked so good after they had to clean my vomit off the carpets and walls.

Aces and Spades, a place I'm still banned from for property damage. The bouncer remembers, so I get some short stuff in a non-existent skirt and red chapped lips to show Em's picture around inside the bar. She doesn't come back with anything other than the offer to blow me for thirty bucks.

I even check the bar next to the empty parking lot of Sixth and Beech, the last place my dad saw me alive.

Take that how you will.

Four days

The longer he's gone, the longer and harder I look. I don't go to work. I don't go to AA. I don't go home. Bella yells at me. Alice yells. Rose cries. Mike threatens to fire me. I keep looking.

A week later

I'm running out of ideas.

Two weeks

I go to AA. To look for him.

I find Maggie.

"You have to let him come back himself."

"No."

"Why? What do you think will happen when you find him?"

"I don't know. I just know I need to find him."

She sighs. It's heavier than the fog smothering the city. Even fucking mother nature is trying her best to hide him from me.

"Emmett liked things to be just so … in order," she says.

I shake my head. "How do you know?"

"Because I talked to him, like I talk to you, like I talk to everyone here. Like you should, too."

"I don't want to." I answer before I think, then skip her to the next subject. "Did he give any other ideas to where he would go?"

"No, but he likes his routine, so I guess, even though he's spinning, somehow he'll be holding on to that."

The meeting has already started. No Em, and no us. "Then why is he not here?"

She stands and rests her hand on my shoulder, squeezing with her brittle-boned fingers, lighter than a ghost. "Maybe he is."

I finish the end of my smoke, rolling her words like a marble in my head. The parking lot is dark, all the cars empty. Bella's old restaurant is full, windows steamed, greasy spices leaching into the night. The bar opposite pulses with music, its lights smokey red and blue in the fog. I breathe the last hit of nicotine deep down into my lugs, holding it for maximum burn, waiting for it to do its damage before I blow it into the night. Then I cross the road for the first time since Bella and push open the door to Jack's. It takes me less than ten seconds to find him.

I fire off a text to Rose. My hands are shaking. I can't decide whether it's relief or because I'm about to face the darkest version of myself. An addict in a hundred-mile-an-hour freefall.

Too late.

AN: Thank you for doing this with me. xx