"Damage," Sloane repeated. "You mean wrecking his car into the newspaper machine?"
"Fuck no. That car barely tapped it. I mean taking his tire iron out and beating the shit out of that thing," he said, waving at the crumpled hunk of metal that once had dispensed newspapers.
I caught Sloane's eyes. I still didn't know what had worked Cole up, but if he'd gone postal on the machine, I knew that it was worse than I'd thought.
"Did you see where he went? Did he walk away? Call somebody? Catch a cab?"
He laughed, and it wasn't a nice sound. "Shit, bitch. You think this be fucking New York City? Folks just step into the street and wave down a cab? You need to go back to the fairy tale you came from."
"Maybe I do," I said. "So you tell me. What happened? Where'd he go?"
"Why should I tell some blond bitch comes asking around about a brother?"
"I'm his girlfriend."
"The hell you say. Your tiny princess ass couldn't handle that motherfucker."
"My tiny princess ass has mad skills," I said. "Now where the fuck did he go?"
"Lady got balls," he said with a nod that might have indicated respect. "No idea where he blew off to, but he tossed three grand at my boy Kray and bought himself a nice new bike right out from under my boy. Sweet set of wheels. Could be anywhere by now."
"He's right," Sloane said. "Without the GPS, we're flying blind."
"So where would he go?" I ran my fingers through my hair.
"I don't know," Sloane said. "Why did he come here? Because it was home?"
"Maybe. Let me think."
We took a moment to thank our informant, who actually pulled the gentleman card and told us to get our lily-white asses out of there because it was getting dark, and the next mo-fo we met might want more than to talk about my crazy-ass boyfriend.
Since that seemed like a good idea, we got back in Sloane's Lexus and headed back toward the highway.
"Wait," I said, and Sloane slowed to a reasonable speed as I dialed Bree in Los Angeles.
I'd hoped that she'd heard from him, but when she said that she hadn't, I asked her to tell me the address of the house he grew up in.
"Is everything okay?"
"I hope so," I said honestly, then promised to call her with an update as soon as I knew anything.
Sloane eased the car by Cole's childhood home--one room on the second floor of a filthy brick building that looked ready to collapse at any moment. There was an old woman on the stoop, and when we asked, she told us that nobody was inside. I considered going in to see for myself, but when Sloane pointed out that the motorcycle Cole had bought wasn't parked anywhere in sight, I agreed that it was better to just get out of there.
"Just go to my place," I said, my whole body feeling heavy and battered. I wasn't sure if it was because I was worried about Cole or simply overwhelmed by the poverty and misery of the neighborhood he grew up in. All I knew was that I wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry.
Well, almost nothing more.
What I wanted more than anything was Cole.
"We're not that far from his house," Sloane said, as she maneuvered her car toward Cole's Hyde Park address. "Maybe he was heading home all along and just decided to take a detour. Let's check there first, then if you still want, I'll take you home."
I nodded, but I wasn't hopeful, and when we got to the house, we found it empty.
"Please," I said, after I tried his phone once more to no success. "Just take me home."
She nodded, and we headed to my little house in silence. Once there, I curled up on my sofa.
Sloane made me hot chocolate, then crouched down in front of me. "Want me to stay?" she ask.
"Yes. No." I sat up. "No," I said firmly. "Go back to Tyler. Maybe he's got some ideas. Call me if you find him. I'm--" I shrugged, feeling useless. "I'm not sure," I admitted. "But I'd like to be alone."
She pressed one hand on the couch for balance, then put her other on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eye. "Whatever it is, he'll be okay."
I nodded, even though I wasn't nearly as sure. We'd come so far, Cole and I. And yet when something terrible had happened, he hadn't come to me. He'd exploded--lost it completely if the newspaper dispenser was any indication--but I'd been completely off his radar.
I knew Sloane was right--somehow, someway, Cole would be okay. He'd work through it. He'd fix whatever problem had arisen. He'd kick his own ass and calm himself down. He would be fine. He would be okay.
And, yes, I was glad of that.
But the bottom line was that when the shit had hit the fan, he'd run from me instead of to me. And that one simple fact felt like a fist around my heart.
Sloane hovered a little bit longer, then finally left on a wave of promises to get Tyler on it and to call the moment they heard anything. As soon as I heard her car pull out of the driveway, I stood up. I wasn't sure what I intended to do, but I knew I needed to move.
What I wanted was to go toe-to-toe with Cole. To tell him he was an idiot. To poke him in the chest and ask him what the hell he was thinking. Didn't he know he could tell me anything? That he didn't have to hide his temper from me? That if he had to explode he could let it all go in front of me?
Didn't he know that I loved him? Didn't he understand what that meant?
Frustrated, I pulled out my phone and again dialed his number. Once again, I got his voicemail. "Dammit, Cole," I said. "Where are you? Call me. You're scaring me, you know that, right? Not because I'm afraid you're hurt, but because I'm afraid--" My breath hitched, and I blinked furiously, forcing back the tears. "I'm just afraid," I finished lamely. And then, because I didn't want to just blather on, I ended the call.
As soon as it disconnected, I called my father on the burner. I wasn't even conscious of making the decision to call, but soon the phone was ringing and I knew that other than seeing Cole, the only thing I wanted right then in the world was to hear my dad telling me that it was all going to be okay.
"Kitty Cat," he said softly.
"Daddy." It was the only word I could manage though the tears that filled my throat.
"Is this a good-news call? I thought you weren't going to call your old man until this whole mess blew over."
"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get your hopes up."
For a moment, there was silence, then his voice came back on the line, soft and gentle. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
That did it. The tears flowed freely. "Nothing," I said. "Nothing to do with you, I mean. It's just--it's just--" I sucked in air. "I guess I just want to see you. But I can't. Not yet. But I had to at least hear your voice, you know?"
"You're scaring me, kiddo. You going to tell your old man what's wrong? You in trouble?"
"No," I said quickly. "No, it's just Cole."
"You have a fight?" he asked, his voice full of protective paternalism.
"No," I said. "But when I find him I think we will." I told him briefly what had happened. How something had upset Cole, and how he'd gone off wild into the night to fight his demons.
"Well, they're his demons, aren't they?" Daddy asked.
"I--well, yes. But--"
"Give him a chance, sweetheart."
"A chance?"
He sighed. "Love doesn't change who a person is, kiddo. Just the opposite. Love lets you strip away all the armor you've put on to protect you from the riffraff of the world. You love Cole?"
"Yes."
"So if he needs time alone, does that make you love him less?"
"No, of course not, but--" I felt my fear and temper deflate just a little. "I want to help him," I finished lamely. "I want him to need me."
"I'm sure he does. But does that mean he has to follow the script in your head? Give him space. Talk to him. Don't manufacture a problem until there is a problem. I've seen the way that boy looks at you," my dad added. "And trust me when I say that he loves you."
I was smiling when I ended the call, which was a miracle in and of itself
since I was no closer to finding Cole. But everything my dad said had soothed me, and it saddened me a bit that Cole had gone his entire life without a parent watching his back.
Except he hadn't.
I cocked my head, turning the thought over as I examined it. Maybe he hadn't had a mother and father. Maybe he hadn't lived the stereotypical life with two parents, a picket fence, and a dog. But he'd had brothers, hadn't he? Tyler and Evan.
And he'd had a father. He'd had Jahn.
I'd wanted to go see my dad, but I couldn't, and so I'd done the next best thing--I'd called him.
Cole couldn't visit or talk to Jahn--but if he wanted to feel close to his friend and mentor, he could go to where he used to live.
He could go to Jahn's old condo.
Nobody answered when I buzzed the intercom, but I told myself it didn't matter. He was in there, because he had to be in there. Because if he wasn't, then I was out of ideas, and that simply wasn't acceptable.
Angie had given me a key and the security code months ago so that I could come in and use the condo's fitness center and pool whenever I wanted. I'd never before entered the actual condo without her advance permission, though.
Tonight, I did.