Chapter Twenty-Five
Amber
My alarm goes off as the sun starts to shine over the surrounding hills this morning.
My head hurts, likely because it took a bottle of whiskey to fall asleep last night.
However, I don't have time for a pity party.
I take a moment to gain my consciousness and head to the bathroom, where I brush my teeth, take a shower, wrap my hair in a bun, and get dressed in a mere twenty minutes.
The coffee pot is ready with wake-up juice, and I grab my phone.
Who should I call first?
After a couple sips, I dial the first number.
“Yo, this is George, leave your—” I end the call.
“Shit,” I curse aloud.
Well let's try his mom.
I punch the seven digits into the dial and wait.
Ring, no answer.
Ring, still no answer.
Ring.
Ring.
“Sorry I can’t take your call. Leave a message and have a blesse—” Again, I hung up, this time tossing my phone onto the couch.
“Dammit!” I scream. “Why does this have to be so difficult?”
Determined not to allow myself to go crazy by sitting idly by, I go to my computer and do a web search for the first number I called.
A few names pop up, but only one that I care about—George Roberts, Declan's brother.
I click on the link next to his name and it takes me to a website attempting to sell me free background information on him for a low one-time payment of twenty dollars.
“Fuck it,” I blab to the stale air in the room.
I grab my credit card, enter my information, click a button to ‘Order Now,’ and wait for the information to hit my email.
Ten minutes pass and I receive a new message.
Anxious, to have something to go on, I open my email and am surprised to see what my money bought.
The page is almost entirely blank, with the exception of a number, the name of a street, and a city.
Twenty dollars just doesn't buy what it used to.
Convinced it's enough to work with, I scribble the information onto a piece of paper, grab my keys, and sprint out the front door.
The address from the email is a good twenty minutes from my house. A mile or so down the road I can't help but think about Declan, bringing another flood of tears. I look at myself in the rearview mirror and tell myself I need to be tough with just a glare. But I can't focus on anything else.
By the time I hit the first signal light, small drops of water pitter-patter on my windshield, and I realize it's starting to rain.
I like rain. Declan's family had a cabin up north.
He took me there for our first getaway together as a couple.
We arrived early in the evening on a Friday, and the rain left us with little choice but to stay inside.
We unpacked and made ourselves comfortable.
A dull light from a candle Declan lit bounced around the kitchenette as we sat down to relax.
I had a giant smile as I caught him staring at me.
I thought about how I already saw him as my boyfriend, though we hadn’t put a label on anything.
But I wouldn’t relax in the woods with just anyone.
It was romantic with him. With anyone else it would have been—creepy.
After we had a small bite to eat, I walked across the room to look out the big window, while Declan made a fire. The flames crackled as they found pockets of air in the ignited logs and a sense of warmth filled me with joy.
“What are you thinking about?” Declan whispered in my ear, standing with his arms wrapped around me, while we gazed out at the world.
“This place is amazing,” I replied. I was happier than any time I could recall before.
Declan’s big arms squeezed me like the teddy bear he saved me from winning, while using his chin to slowly move the hair resting upon my shoulder, exposing my neckline. His teeth pecked at my ear ever so gently before he said those words that made me swoon.
“This is just an old cabin. It’s you who is amazing.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in sheer bliss.
“No!” I jerk the car to the right as I jostle to the present, forgetting I’m driving.
The wheels burst into shards as they hit the curb.
The vehicle bounces up and over the sidewalk, sending a set of mailboxes into the air, before finally coming to a stop in a patch of grass—someone’s font yard.
A cloud of steam from the air bag slowly dissipates.
I can hardly breathe. Then a metal box slams down upon the windshield.
It looks nothing like it did mere moments before, but I can still make out the name Roberts painted in giant white letters on the side.
I’ve arrived.