I spend my evenings like this on a regular basis, blowing up at my friends, retreating off to my haven at the beach, and then scouring the town. My truck has packed on the miles roaming up and down the streets and alleys. I’ve given up hope that she’s in town anymore, but never that she’s alive. I’ll never give up that hope, or at least I try to convince myself of that fact.

As the sun begins to set, I send off one more silent prayer for Blue and decide to wander the streets tonight on foot. Most of the shops are occupied by exuberant college kids living like I should be with Blue on my arm. I quicken my pace through these blocks, knowing there’s no way she’d be here or she’d be spotted by now. Her picture has been blasted all over town, and the nation for that matter. Every single time I see her face on the news and that bright smile shining back at me, it hurts.

When I drive, I lose track of time and just keep searching for her. I’ve made it through the college part of town, through the ritzy mansions, and now into the slums. I lift several lids of trashcans, knowing I’m a fool to even look, but I can’t help it. Several of the homes are run-down with broken windows and shitty roofing. It doesn’t stop me from scouring everywhere. I know this is a place I haven’t ventured, so it intrigues me.

I come across a homeless shelter and feel a tug on my arm. When I look back, an elderly woman looks up into my eyes as if she knows me.

“Never give up hope. You are so close.”

“Excuse me?” I ask her, bending down a bit.

“She’s here.”

“Who?”

“Your love.”

“Eleanor, leave him alone.”

A brunette pulls the woman away, but it doesn’t stop her from talking.

“She’s here. The one you want.”

“I’m sorry, sir, she rambles all the time.”

They disappear into the homeless shelter, sending goose bumps all over me. The woman’s eyes were haunted, but it seems I read way too much into even the tiniest clues, and they all lead to nothing.

I pass the same desolate homes on the walk back, and even though it’s darker as night settles in, you still can’t miss the broken windows of the houses and the shitty environment. Then it’s like I cross over an imaginary line where the homes become nicer and the college campus begins to permeate the air. All hopes of finding Blue tonight drift away as fast as they entered my mind.

My truck is the only one left in the parking lot, and barely lit by the streetlights. Starting my engine, I begin to lose my shit again. It seems to be a daily routine, and whatever is near gets the shit thoroughly beat out of it. My poor steering wheel can’t take much more. My head slams back into the glass as I stare up into the dark night sky speckled with shining stars, and I wonder for the first time if Blue is one of them looking back down on me. I’ve refused to believe the worst, but at times like this, what other choice do I have?

Sleep will never come, so I drive and drive in the darkness, knowing even if Blue was near I’d miss her. I find myself in front of the homeless shelter and replay the lady’s words in my mind. Something about her pulls me from my truck.

The shelter is not buzzing like before. It’s clear supper has been served and everyone has moved on. When I enter the building, a strong stench hits me, nearly causing me to gag. It’s a mixture of piss and filth. I try not to stare at random people loitering around or lying on the ground. I finally spot someone with a name badge and wave them over.

“Sorry, sir, we’re full tonight. Try the shelter on the other side of the city.”

“I’m actually looking for an older lady who I talked to earlier tonight.”

The volunteer isn’t impressed as she raises an eyebrow at me and cocks a hand on her hip.

“Yeah, I want a million dollars and to marry Santa Claus.”

“Ma’am, I’m being very serious. I’m looking for a missing person, and an elderly woman said some pretty random stuff to me earlier. I’d like to talk to her.”

“You need to vacate the premises or I’ll call the cops. We don’t have room tonight.”

I try again to reason with the overworked volunteer, but she threatens me again with the authorities, leaving me no choice but to walk away.

“Wait, sir.” When I turn around I see the volunteer who escorted the elderly lady off earlier. “Did you need something?”

“I know this sounds odd, but I’d really like to see the woman who was talking to me earlier.”

“Oh, honey.” She touches my forearm as an almost comical expression covers her face. “She’s a drifter, and was only here for a few hours today and then wandered off again. Maybe stops in every couple of weeks. Who knows where she is now.”

“She’s not a regular?”

“No, not many are, and when they are, we try to set them up in a home or turn them in to the authorities.”

“I was just looking…Never mind.” I grab the back of my beanie in frustration. “Thanks for your time.”

Stepping out of the shelter, I look for something to punch, and the two women’s voices fill the quiet space as I walk.

“He’s hot.”

“Yeah, but seriously, focus. We need to call the cops on blondie. It’s the same gal who was here a few weeks ago.”

It doesn’t even amuse me anymore when random chicks check me out or make comments. In fact, it makes me want to beat the fuck out of something even more. I quicken my pace to the truck to find something to punish. Too bad, tonight I pound my fist into the metal side of my truck. The sting feels amazing, and then the throb of everlasting pain shoots through my hand as I pound it again.

Then it’s as if someone slaps me in the fucking face. I bolt back into the shelter and find the two volunteers still deep in conversation.

“Excuse me.”

They both look up at me.

“Did I hear you say something about a blonde?”

“Listen, super jock,” says the first volunteer, who was less than welcoming. “Get the hell out of here and move on.”

Something catches my attention, and when I turn, I see a mass of blonde hair. Walking closer to the corner, I can make out a frail body huddled in the corner with matted blonde hair draped over most of her legs. Stepping close to the person without invading their personal space, I feel something I haven’t in months…hope.

My hearts stills in my chest when I see the scars on her knees, and then my breathing hitches when I spot the large freckle peeking through the dirty, messy blonde hair hanging over her forearm.

“Blue.”

The figure doesn’t move a bit.

“Blue, it’s Tuck.”

A deep, husky voice comes from the huddled mess. “Leave me alone.”

“Sir, please don’t talk to her. We need to call the cops. She’s a mess.”

I don’t rise to my feet or quit staring. This is Blue, and it takes everything inside of me not to tug her face to look up at me.

“It’s Tuck, Blue. Your boyfriend. I love you and have looked for you every day.”

“My name isn’t Blue.”

I feel a light tapping on my shoulder and turn slightly to see the friendly volunteer.

“She doesn’t know her name or who she is. We’ve kicked her out for soiling herself and not trying to better her situation. She’s beyond malnourished, and needs help. We are turning her in tonight.”

“Please.” It comes out louder than I expect. “Call the cops now.”

I turn back to the person huddled in front of me, and this time I touch her. The moment my hands touch her skin, I know it’s her. I feel that electric connection and the way she used to make me feel. Then I spot the Preston logo on her shorts and begin to panic, but try to keep my cool on the outside.

“Blue,” I cry. “Look at me.”

In slow motion she lifts her head, and I watch as each thick, matted dreadlock falls to the side of her face. Eyes I once knew stare back at me, but are so far away with nothing behind them. Her gaze darts away an instant later. Her fingers tremble upon her knees.