Chapter 38
BELLE
Iwoke up the next day and had a shift at the coffee shop. I was ready to go home and fix things with Raph. I hadn’t figured out the logistics, but that beast had won my heart.
The rain started before my shift and never let up.
By four, it was a steady curtain against the windows of the coffee shop, turning the world outside into blurred headlights and gray sidewalks.
By six, it had deepened into something heavier with wind pushing it sideways, gutters choking, thunder rumbling in low warning.
It matched the inside of my head a little too well.
I moved through my shift on autopilot. Steam milk. Wipe counters. Smile at regulars. Nod at James when he asked if I was good.
“I’m good,” I’d said.
I wasn’t.
But I had decided something the night before.
After my shift, I was going to find Beast.
At the end of my shift, I untied my apron, hung it on its hook, and grabbed my bag.
The rain pounded the glass like it was trying to get in.
“Text me when you get home,” James called.
“I will.”
I stepped toward the door and pulled it open just enough to feel the spray of water hit my legs. Fantastic. As I adjusted my hood and ran to my van.
When I got there, my phone rang. It was Tripp. My stomach dropped so fast I nearly dropped it. I considered ignoring it. But after the last twenty-four hours, that felt reckless.
I answered. “What?”
He was breathing heavily. “We need to talk,” he said.
“I’m off the clock.”
“Now, Belle.”
Something in his tone made my skin prickle.
“I’m not coming to your office in a storm,” I replied.
A pause.
Then I heard it. A voice in the background. A voice I knew all too well.
“Belle? Kiddo? You there?”
My blood went cold.
“Dad?” I said sharply.
The line crackled.
“Belle?” my father’s voice repeated faintly, confused.
My brain began spiraling so fast it felt like the floor dropped out from under me.
“What is going on?” I demanded.
Tripp’s voice slid back into the foreground.
“He wandered.”
“What?”
“He wandered out during transport. Someone picked him up. That someone was me.”
My pulse roared in my ears.
“Put him back on,” I said.
“Not yet.”
Ice flooded my veins.
“What do you mean, not yet?”
“We need to have a chat,” he said calmly. “Face-to-face.”
The rain hammered harder against the door.
“You do not have to do whatever this is,” I said, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it.
“I don’t have to,” he agreed. “But I might.”
My mind raced. How had Dad left the facility? Transport for what?
“Where are you?” I demanded.
“Somewhere dry,” he said. “You come see me, we’ll sort this out.”
“You give me the address.”
“Not until you agree.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“You’re insane.”
“No,” he snapped suddenly, the calm cracking. “I’m tired of your bullshit.”
“Tired of what?”
“Of being made to look incompetent,” he ranted. “Of having my father breathe down my neck. Of your little husband buying everything in sight and thinking he can just—”
He cut himself off. My stomach twisted.
“My husband?”
“You think I didn’t know. You think he would just buy my company and fire me without letting it slip that you were his wife?”
“It was your father’s company.”
Why did I say that? I needed to calm him down, not wind him up more, but it was out before I could even think.
“And now it’s the Beast’s. It is not going to end this way, Belle. I will come out on top, and you will have nothing,” he spat out.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said again, quieter now. “Whatever this is.”
“He got me fired,” Tripp snapped. “From my own company. I don’t know what the plan is, but it ends now. Whatever vendetta you have—”
My pulse thundered.
“Tripp, I don’t have a vendetta. I just want to know where my dad is.” I demanded.
“Safe,” he said. “For now.”
For now. Lightning split the sky outside.
“You need to come talk to me,” he said. “Alone.”
My breath came shallow. “This doesn’t have to escalate,” I said carefully.
“It already has.”
I glanced back into the coffee shop.
James was wiping down the espresso machine, oblivious.
The rain roared outside like a warning.
“Don’t bring anyone,” Tripp added. “If you bring him—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Give me the address,” I said quietly.
There was a pause.
Then he gave it to me.
And everything in my body knew that this was about to get much worse.
The address he sent was a diner.
On the edge of town, where the highway thinned into two lanes and trees pressed in close. That somehow made it worse.
The rain battered my windshield so hard I had to lean forward to see. The wipers struggled to keep up, smearing headlights into white streaks. The roads were slick, water pooling in dips I knew too well.
I texted Raph at a red light.
Belle - What the fuck did you do?
The message sent.
I didn’t wait for the response. I couldn’t. The roads demanded both hands and every ounce of focus.
By the time I pulled into the diner lot, my knuckles were white from gripping the wheel. The neon sign buzzed faintly in the rain. The parking lot was half flooded, puddles reflecting red and blue light. I saw my dad’s jacket through the front window before I even shut the car off.
He was sitting in a booth. Alone.
Tripp stood when he saw my headlights and pushed through the diner door before I even reached it.
He met me at the entrance, rain plastering his hair to his forehead.
He was shaking with rage.
“What the hell did you do?” he spat.
“What did you do?” I shot back.
“You think I didn’t notice?” he ranted. “You think I didn’t connect the dots when my father sold off my company overnight?”
My stomach dropped. Raph.
“Where’s my dad?” I demanded.
“He’s inside.”
“Then let’s go inside.”
He stepped into my space, still ranting.
“You cost me my job. My company. It was going to be mine. It was all going to be mine until you and your damn husband.” He spat the word out with such disdain.
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie.”
Rain soaked through my hoodie.
“Tripp, this is not the place. Go sit down. We’ll talk.”
He laughed harshly.
“Oh, now you want to talk.”
“Yes. Sit down.”
I pointed toward the diner. I needed to control the environment and contain the spiral. He hesitated. Then shoved past me and went back inside. I followed.
The bell over the door jingled faintly. The diner smelled like coffee and grease and wet pavement. A waitress looked up briefly but went back to refilling cups.
The booth where I’d seen Dad was empty.
I stopped cold.
“Where is he?” I asked, voice already rising.
“He probably had to use the bathroom,” Tripp said dismissively, sliding into the booth.
My heart started racing.
“Where?”
He gestured vaguely toward the back. I didn’t wait. I hurried down the narrow hallway and pushed open the men’s bathroom door.
“Dad?”
Empty. Two stalls. One sink. No dad.
My pulse roared in my ears.
I stepped back into the hallway. And that’s when I saw it. The back exit door opened slightly with rain streaking in. Cold air blew in.
“Fuck.”
I shoved through it into the storm.
The woods behind the diner rose up immediately, dark and dense. The rain made everything slick and shadowed. The parking lot lights didn’t reach far.
And I knew.
I knew how this worked. Alzheimer’s and rain and confusion and bright lights. He would walk toward what felt familiar . . . or toward nothing at all.
“Dad!” I shouted.
The rain swallowed the sound.
Behind me, the door banged open. Tripp stumbled out, still talking.
“You think you can just ruin my life and—”
I turned on him. “You let him wander.”
“He walked.”
“You were responsible for him!”
“He’s not my problem!”
That did it.
Something in me snapped clean in half.
Before I even registered the movement, my fist connected with his face. I should not find joy in the crunch I felt. I think I just broke his nose. There wasn’t even time to enjoy it.
He stumbled back into the muddy gravel, cursing.
“You selfish, bitch—” he began.
I didn’t wait for the rest.
I turned and ran toward the tree line.
“Dad!” I screamed again.
The woods swallowed the sound.
And the rain kept falling. I looked around. I think I know where he might be going. I head to my van to drive to the top of the bluff, to the place where he built me a tree house.