Darkness Before Dawn

you're mad at me?" I ask a little quieter.
    The only thing audible in the room as he glares at me is the clattering of the utensils when he tosses them on top of the ceramic plates. My eyes roam down his shapely arms and fixate on the movement in his forearms that flex and un-flex as he grips the countertop.
    "What's wrong?" I ask again.
    "You've got to be kidding me," he mumbles under his breath before turning and slapping the cabinet behind him, making me jump. "Go get dressed so we can talk," he says for the millionth time, through clenched teeth.
    I sigh, slumping my shoulders but remaining unmoved. I refuse to leave until I get an answer.
    He turns back around and tilts his head. "Let's see, Blake, you went out, got drunk and wouldn't answer my phone calls. You didn't let Aubry answer his phone calls, you didn't let anybody else know where you went. You called a guy who participated in your kidnapping, NOT for the first time, I might add. You didn't want to come home with me, you attacked me because you thought...fine, I'll let that one slide. You wouldn't tell me what you had to talk to that asshole about." He puts his arm up when I open my mouth to say something. "Let me finish. Mainly I'm stuck on the fact that you communicate with this guy regularly and don't even tell me about it."
    I try to swallow past the lump in my throat, but end up gasping for air instead. I know I messed up, but hearing him say all of those things and seeing how angry and hurt he is because of me leaves me at a loss for words. I can only stare at him as he looks at me expectantly. I bite down on my trembling lip, and suddenly, it's all too much. I turn back into our room, grabbing some clothes and heading straight into the shower. I leave the door unlocked, expecting him to barge in at any minute, but he never does. When I finish dressing, I go back to the kitchen and find that he's no longer there. When I notice his keys are missing, my heart starts pounding rapidly and I sprint to the spare bedroom, the balcony, the guest bathroom, and it hits me that he just left. He left my breakfast and coffee on top of the table like he said he would, but he's gone. He didn't even leave me a note.
    I scramble out of the apartment, bumping into Spencer right outside the door.
    "Where is Cole?" I ask hurriedly.
    "He said he was going out," Spencer replies.
    "Did he say when he would be back? Is Bruce with him?" I ask, jumbling my words together.
    "Bruce followed him out, but Cole left in a rush. He looked..." Spencer trails off and looks at his feet, which doesn't help slow down my heart at all. Spencer and Bruce are very professional yet no bullshit guys and they never look away from anybody, so it's obvious he doesn't want to get dragged into this.
    "He looked pissed," I say, finishing his sentence. Spencer's brown eyes shoot back up to mine and he nods slowly. My mouth drops open when I turn around and notice a hole in the wall right outside of our door. I take a sharp intake of breath and look at Spencer for confirmation, which he gives me by nodding gravely.
    I half-heartedly eat my chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, tossing most of it aside because of my complete lack of appetite. I pace around for an hour before I call Cole's cell phone and get no answer. I call Aubry and get no answer from him either, which makes me even antsier. Next I call Aimee, but she says she hasn't heard from Cole and last spoke to Aubry earlier in the morning before she left the house. After hanging up with her, I growl in frustration and decide to sit on the balcony and wait for him to come back. Another couple of hours passes, and I've called Aubry, Cole and Bruce a total of thirty times. I'm jittery and chewing on my fingers at this point, and decide to call Greg.
    "'Sup, Cowboy?" he says as he answers the phone.
    "Have you talked to Cole or Aubry today?" I ask desperately.
    "No, why? Did something happen?" he asks in an edgy voice.
    "No. I don't know," I reply before I begin to hyperventilate.
    "Holy shit. What happened? Are you okay? What the fuck happened?"
    "I'm not okay," I whisper. "I messed up, Greg. I messed up bad."
    I tell Greg what happened last night and this morning, grateful that unlike Becky, he listens without interrupting my story. When I'm done, I sniffle and wipe my nose with the sleeve of my shirt.
    "Damn, Cowboy...you really fucked up," Greg says with a whistle.
    "I don't know what to do. I was going to talk to him today and tell him