Grateful Hearts (Home for the Holidays)

Chapter Seven

Mario stood in the middle of Chantel’s apartment, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air. It was like stepping into a ghost town. Everything was untouched, pristine, yet lifeless. The faint tick of a clock on the wall only amplified the emptiness.

He had let himself in using the spare key she’d given him months ago, back when things were good, back when they trusted each other. Now, as he stood in the space, the guilt he’d been carrying for two days resurfaced, gnawing at the edges of his composure.

Tatiana had been a mistake. It was a fleeting, thoughtless act he couldn’t take back. His buddies had shrugged it off, calling it a “slip-up,” the kind of thing that happened when relationships got too comfortable. But Mario knew Chantel didn’t see it that way.

Hell, she’d see it as the ultimate betrayal. And she wasn’t wrong.

It had been two days now without any word from her. She hadn’t answered his calls, his texts, or even the messages he sent through Brian. She’d disappeared without a trace, and her silence was beginning to grate on his nerves.

Pulling out his phone, Mario hit her number again. It rang and rang and rang.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pacing the length of her living room as her voicemail picked up.

The beep sounded, and Mario launched into his message, his tone harsher than his previous messages.

“Chantel, it’s me. Again. Look, I get it—you’re mad. You’ve got every reason to be. But this is ridiculous. It’s been two days, Chantel. Two fucking days you haven’t shown up to work, and I don’t know what kind of point you’re trying to prove, but it’s childish. You have responsibilities, and people are counting on you. I’m counting on you.”

He paused, running a hand through his hair, the frustration boiling over.

“If you don’t call me back, I’ll have no choice but to come looking for you. And believe me, I’ve got plenty of ways to find you. You can’t hide forever.”

He ended the call and tossed his phone onto the couch, muttering a curse under his breath.

Walking into the kitchen, Mario leaned against the island, his eyes scanning the room for any clue that might tell him where she’d gone. A pad of paper caught his eye on the kitchen table. Its pages were slightly askew. He picked it up and flipped through the top sheet.

Written in Chantel’s neat handwriting were a few cities, Miami, Gatlinburg, Los Angeles, and New York. Each one was underlined as though she were weighing her options.

Mario frowned, tapping the pen she’d left beside the pad against his palm. Had she gone to one of these places? Or were they just idle thoughts, random cities she’d been thinking about?

His jaw tightened. If she thought she could just run off and leave him in the lurch, she was wrong. He wasn’t going to let her ghost him like this, not after everything they’d built together.

Picking up his phone again, Mario scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. He hit call, pacing as the line connected.

“Joe,” he said when his friend answered. “I need a favor.”

“Uh-oh,” Joe replied, his tone half-joking. “What kind of favor?”

“I need you to find someone for me.” Mario glanced back at the notepad, the list of cities etched into his mind. “Chantel. She’s gone off the grid. I think she’s in one of a few places, but I need to be sure.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Mario said, his voice low. “I need to find her. As soon as possible.”

“Alright,” Joe said, his tone shifting to something more professional. “Send me whatever you’ve got. I’ll start digging.”

“Thanks, man.”

Mario hung up and placed the phone on the counter, staring at the pad of paper again.

“Run all you want, Chantel,” he muttered. “But I’ll find you.”