Ezra
I’ve barely settled back in the house when my phone lights up with a text.
My brows pinch together when I see it’s from Wren.
Pretty Girl: Hi, babe. I’ve gotten home safe.
A perfect string of text.
From…Wren?
Plus, it’s way too soon to get to Ray’s. It’s been what? Five minutes? Ten?
A bad feeling nags at the back of my mind but I shove it off. Maybe Quincy helped her type it out.
But she’d have indicated. She always does.
My stomach churns as I read the text over and over again.
“f**k it,” I mutter and punch down on the call button.
It goes straight to voicemail.
And that feeling intensifies, spreading across my chest and settling heavy on my shoulders. I try again…same thing.
Then, I begin to pace, dialing Quincy’s number. She picks up immediately.
“Ezra!” Her harsh
