Page 143 of Devious Obsession
“Aspen hasn’t checked in. She lost her phone.”
Miles whistles. “First her sheet music, then her phone. Hope she didn’t blame the latter one on you, too?”
I scowl. “No.”
“Did you check the stands?”
“I didn’t see her.”
My phone goes off in my hand, and I scramble to unlock it.
Dad
We’re coming to the game. Suite 12. See you after.
I stare at it for a moment, confused. They were doing some sort of tour of Europe last I knew—which wasn’t that fucking long ago. He said they’d be gone for the month—including Thanksgiving. Which was fine by me.
Dad
Where is Aspen?
A chill goes down my spine. I rise, striding down the hall to the rink. I stand at the edge and look out at the crowd, then up at the row of glass-walled suites. They’re reserved for the rich and important. Sometimes scouts get them. Greyson’s dad usually has one permanently held for him and his entourage.
Suite 12 is lit up, but it seems empty. I only know what number it is because a few upperclassmen locked us in there when we were freshmen. Like a hazing thing, or whatever. We stayed there all night—it was either that or break the door down and face damages.
That’s how Knox and I bonded. And later, Miles. Then Greyson, when he came along, slid seamlessly into our friend group.
Anyway, suite 12 is all the way at the end of the row across from the benches, over section 112. I stare at its darkened windows, then down at my phone.
Me
Are you already here? Aspen should be on her way soon.
I pull up the tracking app and check her location, but she’s still at her apartment. I shake my head and blow out an irritated breath.
Me
She’s at her apartment.
Why is she still there?
She knows how important it is that she be here, and the game is going to start any minute. There’s a new tightness in my chest, and the doubt creeps in.
What if this was all too much for her? She could be packing to leave right now. Disappear with her mom, my dad, and just… leave Crown Point.
What if she regrets everything?
“O’Brien!” Coach claps my shoulder.
I almost jump out of my skin, wheeling around to face him. He raises his eyebrows at me.
“Sorry, Coach,” I say quickly, moving past him. Back to the locker room.
The lights around the rink dim as I get to the door, and the music begins to hype up the crowd.
Maybe Aspen fell asleep. Maybe she’s changing her clothes.
Or maybe her stalker got her.
