Never Standing Still (The Never Duet #1)(62)

We saw all the demonstrations, rode the Lego roller-coaster, drank frozen lemonade, and even managed to find a store to buy a lifetime supply of Lego in every color imaginable.

Around lunch time we found a stand that sold hot dogs with every type of fixing one could imagine. Marcus was sold on the idea so we got in line, but my previous bottle of water had me looking for a restroom.

“Marcus, tell Riot what you’d like and then let’s go find a bathroom.”

“I don’t have to go,” he said defiantly.

“Well, I do, so please just tell him what you want.”

“Kalli, can’t I just stay here with Riot? I don’t want to go to the bathroom.”

I rolled my eyes because I could feel the tantrum coming and my need for the restroom became more evident with every second.

“Kal, I’m fine if you want to go. We’ll probably be in this line forever anyway,” Riot said, rubbing his hand down my back.

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely, just hurry back,” he said with a wink.

“I just want a plain hot dog, nothing fancy,” I said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Marcus, listen to Riot and I’ll be right back.” I had the mom finger out, pointing it at his face, as if that would make my words sink in any more than usual.

I followed the signs to the restroom and was met with a huge line and I sighed, trying to keep my mind off my bladder. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Facebook and answered a text from Megan about helping Ella plan her bachelorette party. Finally it was my turn and I nearly gave a victory cry.

When I returned to the hot dog cart I saw neither Marcus nor Riot. I spun in a slow circle, looking for where they would have sat down to eat, but I still didn’t see either one of them. My eyes narrowed and I searched again, but when, on the third pass, I still hadn’t seen my brother or my boyfriend, I began to panic.

I pulled out my phone and called Riot, but it just rang and rang and then went to voicemail.

“Marcus?” I called out, still spinning a circle. Where in the world would he have gone?

“Kalli!” I heard Riot’s voice above the buzz of the park and turned to see him running toward me, dodging and weaving between people to get to me.

“Good God, Riot. You scared me. I couldn’t find you guys. Where’s Marcus?”

“I don’t know.” He breathed heavily. “We were in line and then I turned around to ask him something and he was gone.”

“What do you mean he was gone? Where’d he go?” My heart started beating faster and I could feel the prickling of panic start to course through my veins, adrenaline making every one of my senses wake up.

“I don’t know,” he repeated, obviously frustrated, running a quick hand over his head as he turned, searching for my brother.

“You lost him?” I yelled.

“He just disappeared, Kal. I’m sorry,” he said, his gaze finding mine, his eyes full of apology.

Just then a park employee walked past us and I snagged his arm.

“Where do I go if I have a lost child?”

“I can take you to the family center,” he said immediately, obviously used to dealing with missing children and their frantic parents. He took my elbow and started leading me through the park.

“Shouldn’t we stay where we lost him?”

“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll get all the employees looking for him and when we find him, we’ll bring him to you. Now, can you give me a description? What’s his name? What does he look like? What was he wearing? How old is he?” He was still gently pulling me through the park, walking quickly and making his way through it much more efficiently than I would have, obviously because he knew the park like the back of his hand.

I tried to answer his questions but my eyes kept darting to every head of dark hair I saw, trying to find Marcus, and I couldn’t concentrate on describing him.

“His name is Marcus, he’s about five foot eleven, shaggy brown hair, and he was wearing blue jeans with a red Lego Movie t-shirt. He’s seventeen years old.” I heard Riot’s voice describing my brother and I was filled with rage I didn’t quite understand or have time to analyze at that moment.

The guy walking with me turned his face toward me. “He’s seventeen? I thought you said he was a child?”

“He is,” I exclaimed. “He has a mental disability and, for all intents and purposes, is just like a seven year old. He looks like a teenager, but he’s not. He’s just like a little boy.” At that, I began to cry. “He doesn’t know where I am. He’s probably scared.”

“Ma’am, it’s all right. Listen, most of the time when we find kids, they’re having the time of their lives and haven’t even realized they’re separated from their parents.”

I didn’t bother correcting him by mentioning that I wasn’t his mom. I just nodded and hoped he was right.

He finally brought us into a building and sat us down in chairs while he made an announcement into his walkie-talkie, describing Marcus and his special circumstances.

And then we waited.

After ten minutes I began to pace through the small building.

After twenty minutes I began to cry again.

At thirty minutes I tried to leave and look for him myself, Riot stopping me and making me sit.