Help Me Remember (Rose Canyon, #1)(84)

There are the swings where her flag was hidden and the grassy area where the barrels of balloons were placed.

I step out of the car and head toward the swings when someone yells my name. “Hey, look, Timmy! It’s Spencer!”

Great. I need these heckling kids like I need a hole in my head. I turn, and sure enough, Brielle’s teammates are strolling over, and Timmy has a soccer ball tucked under his arm. “Hello, boys.”

“Hey, man. You came back for another butt whooping?”

“Not this time.”

The one kid, I think his name is Saint, comes closer. “You okay? You don’t look okay.”

I force a smile. “I’m good.”

I’m sure I look like shit. I haven’t slept. I can barely eat. I sure as hell haven’t used a razor in five days, and I have been living in my car while I searched for any answers.

“Where’s Brielle?”

Gone. She’s fucking gone, Saint, that’s where. “Not sure. She went on a trip.”

Brian steps forward. “Did you upset her?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you look like you did,” Timmy answers.

I don’t even want to ask what that means. “She’s fine.”

At least I think she is. When I called Quinn five days ago, he informed me that he could not inform me about Brielle, her whereabouts, or anything to do with her situation. However, what he could say was that he was okay, his friend he was with was sad, and he was staying by the coast with a friend’s mother. Basically, everything I am not supposed to know. After that, I was done.

I shut everything off and did the only thing I could do, which was to focus on finding the man in the video.

“Well, you don’t look fine. You look like you’re a mess.”

“And I am so glad I came here to get your opinion,” I say, irked at these kids.

Timmy nudges Brian. “He totally messed up with her.”

“I did not.”

Okay, I did, but I’m not telling a bunch of ten-year-old kids that.

Saint nods slowly. “He did. And Brielle is the best.”

“She totally is. For a girl,” Timmy adds. “What did you do?”

I groan. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Then why isn’t she with you?” Brian asks.

“Because she went on a trip.”

“Without you? My mom went on a trip once without my dad and now she lives in Tucson,” Brian notes. “Is Brielle in Tucson too?”

Just put me out of my misery. “No, she is not in Tucson.”

“She could be in Vegas,” Saint informs us all. “I heard my dad say that all girls go to Vegas.”

“Your dad is wrong,” I let him know.

“My dad says he knows everything,” Timmy pipes in.

As if this conversation could get any more ridiculous, Brian calls another kid over. “Hey, Kendrick, come here! Spencer upset Brielle, and now she’s in Vegas or Tucson!”

I swear I am going to start yelling at these kids in about two seconds. “She is not in Vegas or Tucson.”

“Well, she’s not here and you are, so you don’t know that.” Timmy shrugs.

Kendrick runs over. “Man, we love Brielle.”

“I do too.”

“Then you should marry her,” Brian says. “Girls like that.”

“And you know this from all your infinite experience?” I ask.

“I have a girlfriend,” he says, pointing toward the swings. “She brought me two sodas to school yesterday.”

“The foundation of your love is rock solid, Brian. I’m impressed.”

He beams. “She can’t resist.”

Kendrick, Timmy, and Saint start to laugh and make gagging noises. These kids remind me so much of my group of friends it hurts. Emmett was the first of us to have a crush, ironically it was on Addison. She smiled at him and he fell. She was the girl all of us wanted. She was smart, pretty, and brought cookies to school every day. Really, what more could a bunch of dumb boys want? But she loved Isaac, and Emmett, being the friend he was, decided no girl was worth fighting over. However, when Isaac and Addy started dating, we gave him so much shit for it. Mostly because we were jealous.

I smile and grip Brian’s shoulder. “You hold on to that girlfriend of yours. No matter what your friends say. Women make the world a better place.”

He grins. “And they sneak you soda.”

“And they do that.”

Timmy moves in. “Then why did you let Brielle go?”

“I didn’t want to,” I admit.

“Then get her back,” Kendrick offers his advice. “Tell her you’re sorry and get her flowers. My dad is always getting flowers for my mom. He said he messes up a lot, but women are difficult and I should learn this early.”

“Your dad is right about that,” I mutter under my breath before saying, “I’ll fix it. I just need time.”

A whistle sounds, and the boys turn like prairie dogs after just popping their heads up. “We gotta go! That’s coach!”

“Go have fun,” I say, waving as they run off.

I’ll fix it.

I just need to get home and figure out who is on this tape.