Losing You (Stars On Fire Book 4) (18 page)

Then Clark’s arms wrapped him in a fierce embrace. With tears streaming down his face, Marc hugged him back, holding on for dear life—his life. He knew what he needed to do and it scared the hell out of him.

After Marc calmed down, Clark broke the embrace. “Come on. I’ll take you to my place tonight. Tomorrow you can figure things out. Okay?”

“Thanks, Clark. I love you, bro.”

With a tremulous smile, Clark replied. “Love you too.”

Lizzie

Lizzie ran out of the house after Marc but couldn’t see him. Racing to her car, she got in and drove around, desperately needing to find him.

What was going on? Why the hell was he doing drugs? What was in his system right now? How he was reacting to it? She knew nothing!

Screaming in frustration, she returned to his place, hoping Marc had come back. She searched all over the house, but he wasn’t there. Collapsing on the sofa, Lizzie’s eyes blurred as she stared at the drugs on the coffee table, at the needle he’d had in his arm, trying to decide on what to do next.

He put this into his perfect body . . . why? Why did he do this? She didn’t understand. Sitting there, staring at the drugs wouldn’t help. She looked up to the mantel and saw a picture of Marc with his friends at a baseball game, his arm slung over Tom’s shoulder.

She needed Tom.

After cleaning up the drugs and stuffing them into her purse, Lizzie sped over to Tom’s. She didn’t even know if he’d be there, but when she pulled into his driveway, she breathed a sigh of relief upon spotting him walking from his bike to his front door. He paused when he saw her, a smile touching his lips, then headed in her direction. The smile fell away as he regarded her. The tears streaming down her face a big clue that something was up.

“What’s wrong, Lizzie?” he asked, opening the door. She couldn’t help it; the tears came faster with the sound of his concerned voice. “Hey, shh . . . talk to me, Bits.”

The words spilled from her chest as she told Tom what’d happened through hiccupped sobs, showing him what was in the bag. He quickly took her purse and shut it. “Let’s go inside,” he ordered, holding out his free hand for her to take.

Which she did and let him lead her into his home. He set her on the couch, then got busy on the phone, calling and texting everyone it seemed. No one had any clues.

“No luck, Lizzie. I’m hoping he’s with Clark, but I can’t get a hold of him. You up for a ride? I want to go to Clark’s.”

She wasn’t but nodded anyway because she needed to find Marc and make sure he was okay, not overdosing or hurt.

While in Tom’s truck, he made another call. “Hi,” he said, and Lizzie heard the affection entwined in that simple word. He must be talking to this unknown girlfriend—the one he’d avoided talking about yesterday at dinner. “I have to cancel tonight. Marc’s in trouble. Lizzie caught him with a needle in his arm . . . yeah, I know. A
big
escalation from his norm . . .”

What? His norm? What the hell did that mean? And why was he telling her this? Did she know Marc? She continued to listen, hoping it would enlighten her.

“You all right, baby girl? Let me know if you hear from him. I’ll call you later. Love you,” he said, ending the call.

He loves her? Tom is in love?

Shaking her head from those thoughts, Lizzie berated herself. She needed to focus on Marc, not her curiosity about Tom’s love life.

“Tom?” she asked. He glanced at her quickly before turning back to the road.

“Hmm?”

“What did you mean when you said ‘his norm’? Did you . . . this wasn’t . . . did you know?” she asked, finally getting the words out of her mouth. His loud exhale of breath and the falling of his shoulders gave her the answer. “You knew about his drug use?”

“Yeah. Seems like you were the only one not to know.”

Duh.

“Why didn’t
you
tell me?”

“Because he told me he wasn’t using anymore!”

“Well, he lied to you.”

“Or maybe . . . it was the truth at the time.”

“God!” she exclaimed, her head falling back against the seat. “Did I even know him?”

“Lizzie, stop. You knew him—know him. You know him.”

“I did
not
know this. How long, Tom? How long has he been doing them?”

With his arm resting on the door, Tom’s head fell into his hand and he rubbed hard at his forehead. “For as long as I’ve known him and probably before that.”

“Damn. Really?” When Tom nodded, she swore again. “Did you . . .” she paused and swallowed before continuing. “Did you do them with him?”

“Yeah . . . sometimes . . . in the beginning.”

“Whoa. What kinds of drugs?”

“I only ever smoked pot.”

“And Marc?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted.

Lizzie didn’t know whether or not to be angry at Tom for this major omission or Marc. She had no idea what to think. But the prevailing thought was that she wanted him safe.

Tom stayed silent while he drove until he stopped at what she assumed was Clark’s home. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

She nodded at him, unable to get any words out of her mouth. Marc may be behind the doors to this house.

Tom rang the bell and for added emphasis, pounded on the door. Lizzie looked around. It didn’t sound like anyone was home. When no one answered, Tom held up his hand. “Stay here. I’m going around back just to make sure.”

“Okay,” she responded, hugging herself against the night’s chill.

Tom hurried off and Lizzie peeked in the windows, hoping to see something, but it was so dark in the house. Shaking her head, the realization sunk in that there wasn’t anyone home. And when Tom came back, the frown on his face was just further confirmation.

“I don’t know where else to go, Liz . . .”

“Let’s head back,” she said in defeat, walking down the steps to his truck.

“You sure?” he asked, grabbing her hand.

“Yeah . . . you alerted all our friends. They’re all on the lookout for him.”

“Okay,” he said, opening the door for her, then rounding the front of the truck so he could get in.

The drive back to his place was silent. They drove by Marc’s house to see whether he was there.
A big fat negative
, Lizzie thought as new tears came to her eyes.
Please be safe, Marc
, she prayed.

“Lizzie?” She turned at Tom’s voice. “Want to come in?”

“Yeah,” she said, hopping out of his truck. Lizzie followed him up the stairs, and the moment he opened the door, Foxy started barking excitedly. “Was she here earlier?” she asked as she knelt down to pet the dog.

“No, my mom had her for me. I texted her to drop her back off.”

Oh . . . his plans.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I know you had other plans tonight . . .”

“Lizzie,” he said, pulling her up. “You and I . . . I got you. Okay?”

Stupid tears
, she thought as a single drop escaped and trickled down her cheek to only be captured by Tom’s finger.

“I got you, Bits.”

Him repeating those words broke her. She launched herself into his arms and cried—for how lucky . . . and unlucky she was.

Tom guided them to the sofa where he helped her sit. Patting the seat next to Lizzie, Foxy joined her, resting her sweet head on Lizzie’s lap. When he left the room, she petted the dog’s head, focusing on the softness of her fur instead of how heavy her heart felt. Tom returned to the room with two beers and handed her one. She murmured her thanks and took a long swig, watching as he checked his phone for a moment before placing it on the table next to him.

Sitting beside her, Tom looped one arm over her shoulder and the other held his beer steady upon his knee.

“TV?” he asked.

“Sure,” she answered.

He turned on the television and of course, it was on the Cubs game.

“You came back early,” he noted.

She chuckled softly, not wanting to disturb the dog resting on her lap. “Yeah . . . for him. I should’ve tried to see him yesterday. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe it’s a blessing it happened when it did. Maybe it’ll be a good catalyst for him.”

“I sure hope so. I . . . I can’t lose him, Tom.”

His lips touched the crown of her head and stayed there for a long moment. She snuggled into him and they watched the game, both hoping they’d hear from Marc.

Lizzie woke up wrapped in the blankets of an unfamiliar bed. As she stretched, her foot connected with a solid object. Looking down the bed, she smiled at Foxy resting by her side. When she realized where she was, Lizzie thanked her lucky stars for Tom and pushed herself up, leaning back against the beautiful headboard . . . no doubt made by him. She hadn’t wanted to be alone last night and he had let her stay, Foxy and him lying with her.

The sound of a door opening got her attention and Tom walked out of the bathroom, looking freshly cleaned and adjusting his T-shirt. He smiled when he saw her.

“Good morning.”

Lizzie tried to return his smile but that was all she could manage.

“If you want,” he began, sitting on the bed next to her. “I can drive you into work . . .”

“That would be nice,” Lizzie answered. Last night, she’d told him that she had to go into work today to try to make up for returning early. She’d risked a lot by coming home, telling Parker that she had a family emergency. How accurate that lie turned out to be.

On the ride into the city, Lizzie checked her phone but there were no messages or calls from Marc. Wanting him to know how she felt, her thumbs went to work on composing a text.

Just wanted you to know that I love you. Please call me. <3

This didn’t change things for her. She loved him and would continue to do so as they figured things out. To do that, she needed him to contact her.

Tom pulled up to her office building and she thanked him for everything, leaving a kiss on his smooth cheek, then jumped out of the truck.

“Lizzie?” he called out. “I’ll stop by tonight after I’m done with this late delivery.”

“Okay. See you later,” she said and went inside.

Work was a struggle. Between constantly checking her phone for messages and calling Marc, she didn’t get much done. So she left work early, taking the train home, and then driving over to Marc’s.

From behind the windshield, Lizzie stared at his house, feeling empty. She knew he wasn’t there, but she needed to go in just to be surrounded by his scent. After climbing out of the car, she slowly made her way up the walk to the porch. She tested the doorknob and it was locked and the tears started.

Marc had been there.

She hadn’t locked the door because she didn’t think he had his keys and wanted him to get in if he returned.

Unlocking the door with her key, she went inside and her eyes immediately started to catalog all the missing items: his laptop and bag that had been on the sofa yesterday, the pictures of him and his friends as well as the one of her and him at the lake last year.

Continuing upstairs, she went to his room and the moment she stepped inside, she fell to her knees. All his clothes were gone.

Everything.

The drawers and the closet door were open, revealing their emptiness.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Marc. It went straight to voicemail. “I’m at your house and it looks like you’ve packed it up. Marc . . . baby . . . please don’t go. Don’t leave me!” she begged, her voice breaking with her tears. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you—whatever you’re going through, I can help. I can be there for you, just don’t leave me. Please . . . please . . .”

Lizzie ended the call and stood up and went to his bed to lie down. Burrowing her head in his pillow, his scent enveloped her, calming her down. Though the tears may have stopped, she still felt numb. He was gone. Where, she didn’t know. Were they done? Why did he take the drugs? Why now? That day? She had no answers, but she wasn’t mad at him . . . not about the drugs, but that he ran and didn’t even give them a chance to talk about this.

She had no idea how long she’d been lying there when she heard her name spoken. Looking up, Lizzie saw Tom standing above the bed looking down at her, pity etching his face.