Ivy doesn’t say anything right away. Then, “Okay. Okay,” she breathes, as if finally allowing herself a moment of relief.

A moment letter, fingers brush my shoulder in a feather-light caress.

Slowly, I turn to face her.

She gives me a knowing look. “Later,” she whispers near-soundlessly. “We can lose it later.”

I stare at her. Processing what she means. Then, finally, I nod.

She’s right. I can lose my shit later.

Long black hair clings to the sides of her face like curtains trailing toward well past her chest. Her lip quivers, and I can’t be sure if it’s the cold, or the straight-up morbidness of this fucking place.

“Where—”

Her phone starts ringing before I can finish asking where we should look next. She fumbles with it in her haste to answer it.

“Reggie? Please tell me you got something.”

We both jog back to the car without a backward glance. Headlights skitter over us as we round the car and jump in. This time, I get behind the wheel. She doesn’t argue as she listens to whatever Reggie’s saying.

“Oh, thank God.” She sighs, tipping her head back toward the seat. Eyes sliding shut with a relief that looks bordering on painful. I understand completely.

“Where?” I demand.

Ivy cuts a glance my way as she nods. “Yeah. I know where it is. Why the hell would he go out there?”

More talking from Reggie’s end. I can’t make out anything other than the low, muffled tenor of his voice.

Ivy’s eyes widen. She darts them around, unseeing as she listens to whatever Reggie’s saying. She waves a hand at me, gesturing to drive.

She lifts the phone away briefly to tell me, “Head toward the highway.”

I tap my fingers restlessly on the steering wheel as I fight the urge to slam my foot on the gas. Or scream. I need answers. Where the fuck is he?

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Ivy mumbles. “We’ll wait for you.”

“Where is he?” I rush out as soon as she hangs up, lowering the phone to her lap. “Is he okay? Ivy?”

“He’s at a bar,” she whispers.

I divide my attention between her and the road. “O-kay...”

“It’s called Bootleggers. It’s a dive bar just on the outskirts of town; and when I say dive, I mean dive.”

My knee bounces anxiously. At the bottom of the hill, I make a right onto Main and head toward the exit.

“But he’s okay?” I ask, squeezing the wheel until the leather creaks.

“I don’t know. Reggie didn’t get anything else, just his location.”

I nod to myself. He’s in a public place. He’s alive.

I just need to focus on those two things.

We’re coming, Way, we’re coming.

“It was his dad’s bar.”

I whip my head toward her. “What?”