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sweat with each ring of Ryder’s phone. I don’t even know what I’m going to say if he even answers.
    I pray he doesn’t.
    Don’t answer. Please don’t answer, I silently chant to myself.
    On the fifth ring, he answers.
    “Hello,” he says in a sleepy, groggy tone.
    I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out but a breath of air.
    “Is anybody there?” he asks.
    I desperately want to reply. Tell him I’m fine and that I’m coming home, but I can’t form the words.
    “Lucky, is that you?”
    My heart stops when I hear him utter my name. A tear beginning to trickle down my cheek. I bring my hand to my mouth, muffling my sobs.
    “Lucky, please come home. I love you, Clover.”
    My heart leaps into my throat at his statement. Clover , he hasn’t called me that since we were teenagers.
    “Clover, please come home.” I can hear the sadness in his voice as he waits for me to say something, but I’m too big of a pussy to open my mouth and tell him I’m coming home to him.
    I can’t believe, even after all that I’ve put him through—throwing him away like a piece of trash—that he still loves me. Knowing that breaks my cold heart even more.
    How can anyone as good as Ryder love someone like me?

 
    I hear the line go dead and quickly press call back on my phone, but it just rings and rings. I know it was Lucky. It was her, and I know if I could just talk to her I could convince her to come home. I try the number again “Come on Lucky… answer,” I say through gritted teeth. Again it just rings and rings, until the annoying computerized voice tells me, not only is Lucky not responding, but I can’t even leave a voice message.
    “God damn it!” I scream. In my rage, I launch my phone across the dark living room and into the chest of my best friend, Brian.
    “What the fuck, Ryder?” he snarls, throwing my phone back to me.
    “I’m sorry, man.” I slump back down onto the couch, resting my hands over my eyes.
    “What was that all about?” Brian walks over to his liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He sets them on the coffee table in front of me then joins me on the couch and pours us each a glass.
    “Lucky called me.” I grab the glass from his hand and down the amber liquor in one long gulp. “She didn’t say anything, but I know it was her.”
    “Oh shit!” He grabs my phone and looks at the last number dialed. “This is a San Diego area code. She’s in California.”
    “Are you fucking sure?”
    “I’m positive. This is definitely a San Diego area code. She must’ve gotten a new phone,” he reassures me, handing me my phone back.
    This is the first serious lead I’ve gotten on Lucky’s whereabouts. If she really is in California, I need to go find her. I can’t let her slip through my fingers again.
    “I need to go after her. I have to get to San Diego.”
    “Ryder, if she’s on the run, by the time you get there she could be gone again.”
    “Brian, I can’t just fucking sit here and do nothing. You of all people can’t sit here and tell me not to go after the woman I love,” I snap back.
    “That’s not what I’m saying. I just think if you want to find her you have to be smart about it. Her phone probably has GPS. I can make a phone call to the phone company and they can get a trace on where she is and where she’s going.”
    “Brian you could get fired for doing that without probable cause. I can’t let you risk losing your job. Being a detective has been your dream since we were kids. I can’t let you do that.”
    He shrugs his shoulders. “I can say she’s a suspect that we need to bring in for questioning, and hell, if it leads to you getting Lucky back, then it’ll be worth it.”
    This better fucking work. I don’t think I could survive the added guilt of causing my best friend, my brother, to lose his job because I didn’t have the balls to go after Lucky that night in the club.
     

     
    An hour later I’m pacing nervously