Four

Wynne

Having drifted back off to a gentle, G-rated slumber, I am startled awake by my phone vibrating on the nightstand. I reach over, squinting with one eye, to read the caller ID.

"Mom?" I answer, quickly awake. She would never call me this early in the morning unless it was an emergency. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Wynne, your father didn't come home last night." My steady rock of a mother sounds completely shaken. "I have called his cell, his office line, and even his secretary."

"Are you sure he didn't just get home late and crash in the guest room again?" This was something my father did from time to time, if he was working exceptionally late.

"He isn't anywhere on the premises," She answers. "His car is still in the garage at his office. His secretary is calling the police..." She hesitates before continuing, causing my heart to skip a beat. "She said his office looked like a tornado blasted through it."

My stomach churns at that information. My father is a very clean and meticulous man. His sock drawer is organized by length, material, and pattern. He once fired a maid for hanging a blue shirt among his white shirts. His office was always so pristine, you could suck a drink off his floor with no worries.

"What do you need me to do, Mom? Is there somewhere I can go looking for him?" I need something, anything to do to keep my mind from going over worst-case scenarios in my head.

"Honey, you are recovering from a gunshot wound," She insists. "You just need to stay safe and let me know immediately if you hear from your father."

"Are you sure? I can come home," I offer.

"Absolutely not," my mother rushes. "You stay where you are. And Wynne," she pauses again as if debating on her next sentence. "Whatever you do, keep Zephyros close."

I raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "Zeph? What's his role in all of this?"

What sounds like a muffled curse hits my ear before she replies "I just know that he will want to take care of you right now. He knows how much your family means to you."

As we end the call, I get this tingly feeling in my gut, telling me I am missing at least one important piece to this puzzle. Twice now, in as many weeks, my family has pushed me even further into Zeph's orbit. I was shocked enough when my father insisted on me moving in here temporarily, instead of coming home, after I was shot. Now, my father is missing, and my mother is insisting I stay close to my best friend.

I can do nothing to help my father with the exactly zero amount of information I have. Since my parents haven't been willing or able to explain their sudden show of favoritism, I suppose it's time I go ask the man himself what he knows, and why I am currently out of the loop on my own family's business.