a place we know| ✓

fifty nine

Hope poured into her gaze. "No school tomorrow then?"

"Don't get your hopes up, kiddo."

Picking up her bag, he used the other and tapped his knuckles softly on the door. "Audrey, are you in there?"

He knocked again. "Rey, it's Gunner. I'm dropping Leah off."

To verify that he was at the right door, he tilted his head back and reread the unit number. 203. He should have sensed something was off when she hadn't answered his calls this morning or texted him all weekend. Earlier he assumed she had a shift in understanding and finally came to her senses that he, in fact, deserved to parent his daughter. It was so unlike her not to worry about him, and especially Leah. But he was starting to doubt her new tactics. Audrey was the type to worry over minor details, certainly going incognito on them both was the last thing she'd do.

Her absence instilled anxiety inside his gut. He let his hand fall and flexed his fingers at his sides, counting backwards from five to release the tension in his shoulders. Don't overthink it, Gunner. I'm sure she's just in the bathroom or something.

"Maybe you should call her," Leah suggested. Her eyes more than anything gave her away, showcasing her concern.

"Good idea," he praised, reaching into his back pocket for his cellphone. The amount of times he called this number resulted in it being permanently engraved in his mind. His fingertips tapped the call-pad then hit the green button. He brought it to his ears and listened to the dial tone ring.

Audrey, pick up.

Gunner heard two rings. The one his phone speaker emitted and the other drifting to the outside from behind the door. He recognized Audrey's ringtone.

He ended the call, and just as he suspected, her dial tone was cut short. Why the fuck doesn't she have her phone with her?

His fist pounded on the door. "Audrey, are you in there?" Panic lingered in his voice. "Baby, please open the door!"

Nothing. This wasn't the cliché silence Gunner could say soothed his increasing rate of alarm, no. This was stagnant and stood at a standstill in time; his emotions were running wild. It didn't slow his heartbeat and reduce its hammering speed. He was too hyperaware that his breathing was ragged, of the cold sweat beading at his hairline, and his shaking hands.

He grabbed the doorknob and twisted, expecting the door to be locked. But it opened. He didn't step inside the room, but it looked untouched from the last time they talked.

"What if she's just out with Tucker? She might come home later tonight." Leah slipped one of her frigid hands into his clammy one in an attempt to soothe him. As much as Gunner wished it worked, it didn't. "Don't worry about her, daddy. She'll be okay."

"I have to worry, baby. She's your mom and I..." I love her.

Turning a deaf ear to his daughter, Gunner pivoted aside and marched to the unit right over, unknowingly dragging Leah along with him as she tried to maintain her balance. His grip around her hand stiffened.

He'd seen physical evidence of the rage Tucker rained down on Audrey, and it was near undeniable that he would know of her whereabouts. It was all too convenient for his liking.

Gunner's fist slammed into the door, enough force to punch through the painted wood. But restraining himself, demanded Tucker's attention.

"I know you're in there!" he bellowed harshly. "Open the door!"

Not a second too long and the door pulled back, a man's rugged face gaped with a fixed, vacant expression, a cigarette hanging limp between his thin lips. His brown waves were in tangles and knots; he hadn't raked a hairbrush or comb through it in days, perhaps. He was mangy, fatigue acting like a thief and stealing the light from his umber eyes. Gunner couldn't necessarily judge–he was also gaunt. He was essentially looking into a mirror.