ELEVEN #2
“Why don’t you head home for a bit?” Linda says, her voice giving me no room for objection. “Grab Emerald some of her comfy clothes and her fuzzy socks, her feet are still cold, and—oh, bring that rainbow blanket of hers. She loves that.”
I smile softly as I picture the blanket she’s talking about, really the only pop of color in our bare and bland apartment. We’ve been planning on redecorating, but Emerald’s been hesitant.
“Okay,” I nod my head, and she pats my hand once more before letting me go.
Before I step away, I lean down and press a long kiss to her head.
There, beneath the lingering blood and antiseptic smell, her scent remains.
Sweet, so sweet.
Emerald. My girl. Always.
“I love you, Emerald,” I whisper against her skin. “I love you so much. I’m going to fix this. All of it.”
There’s no response. I didn’t expect one. But I swear the corner of Emerald’s mouth looks turned upward.
Like she’s smiling.
Maybe it’s my imagination. Maybe it’s not.
But just that little bit of hope gets my ass moving.
◆◆◆
Our luxury apartment uses keypad locks, which is convenient because my wallet and keys are still in the locker room.
When I walk into the apartment, I briefly pause in the doorway as Emerald’s scent wraps around me like a hug. I take deep, greedy inhales as I walk further into our space, stopping in my tracks at the basket sitting on the kitchen counter.
“Emerald...” I whisper in the too quiet space.
It’s a gift basket full of my favorite snacks. She must have made for me to welcome me home. My favorite spicy beef jerky, the sour gummy worms, and kettle chips. I think of her putting it together for me, going to the store to pick up the items, smiling as she packs it in the basket.
My chest twists as it plays before my eyes like a movie.
The night that could have been.
Carrying Emerald into our apartment because we started kissing in the elevator and couldn’t stop. Leaving clothes scattered like a trail all the way to the bedroom, where I would lie between Emerald’s legs, eat her pussy until she came on my mouth. Twice.
She would flip us over and slide down on my cock and ride me, while I sat back and wondered what the hell I ever did in life to deserve this. She would make the most amazing noises—her chiming giggles, her breathy sighs of my name, her sweet mewls of pleasure.
Then we would cuddle and eventually go for another round, this one gentle and sweet, while I whispered to her how much I missed her and how much I loved her.
We would go down to the kitchen, where she would give me the basket full of goodies. We’d eat them in bed while we watched our silly shows and fell asleep tangled together.
The problem is, even if we had that night, we would have still had the same problems. It might have just delayed this.
Every version of me that ignores the issue still ends up here.
So I need to root out the problem itself. Quickly, I shower and use Emerald’s body wash because I just can’t resist, and smelling her scent offers me a little bit of comfort.
Pulling on a sweatshirt and jeans, I grab our overnight bag and start packing.
Emerald’s favorite fuzzy socks, my old University of Michigan hockey sweatshirt that’s really more hers now.
I grab a couple of those loose lounge pants she loves, her soft slippers, and all of her favorite comfort clothes.
I don’t even know how long she’s going to be in the hospital, but I’m assuming for the foreseeable future. I can always come back here and grab more for her, whatever she wants when she’s able to tell me.
I don’t linger on the fear in her eyes and thoughts of whether she’ll even want to talk to me ever again.
Stay on track, grab what you need.
As I’m packing the rainbow blanket into the bag, my phone vibrates from where it’s charging on the bedside table. A text from Ruby that makes everything go still in a way that feels dangerous. Attached is a screenshot from Britney’s Instagram.
The photo of us from last night.
I look fucking miserable, my face a hard mask that barely hides my annoyance with the blonde at my side.
But that’s not what the world sees.
You guys look perfect together!
He looks so into you. much better than that ugly bitch hanging on his arm.
And then Britney’s response.
Thanks! Only a matter of time until I get what’s mine.
My hand curls into a fist, and I close my eyes, breathing deeply to calm the rage running through me.
Ruby texts me again.
This one seems obsessed.
Obsessed.
I frown, recalling the image of Britney and Rick speaking to each other, familiar with one another.
That’s not that surprising, given how Britney is at every game, always getting pictures and autographs.
But I remember his face when he opened up the envelope to see the photo, the looks they shot each other.
I text Ruby to explain what happened last night with Britney and Rick, then check my own messages for her profile.
Weirdly, there’s nothing, just her reacting to stories posted of me with emojis, but no actual correspondence.
That makes my hackles rise.
She always knew which hotel I’d be at, which events, and at what exact time. I wrote it off as uncomfortable fan behavior, but this is an obsession .
Was she speaking to Rick directly?
My phone buzzes with a text from Ruby.
Paperwork is filed. Congrats, you are officially represented by Silver & Silver. I’ll send you the paperwork. Sign and send it back. Have you talked to the detectives yet?
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the crumpled card and dial Detective Anthony’s number. It only has to ring twice before she picks up.
“Anthony.”
“Detective,” I say, clearing my throat and walking into the kitchen. “It’s Hayden Sawyer.”
My hand gently touches the gift basket Emerald made, smiling slightly when I see the hand-drawn card she made. Two stick figures, one a lot bigger than the other, standing under a rainbow.
Welcome home, honey. I missed you.
Love, Emerald
My eyes sting. My chest aches. Oh, baby...
“Hayden?” Detective Anthony sounds surprised. “Hey. How is your wife?”
“She woke up for a little bit.”
“Oh! I’m glad to hear that—”
“Have you found him?” I ask the only question that really matters now.
Glancing at our large window, one of the few places in this apartment that Emerald liked because of all the natural light it let in, I can’t help but picture that man out there. That cowardly fuck who put his hands on my wife. Hiding.
When the hand dangling at my side starts shaking, I curl it into a fist and try to breathe deeply to calm my pounding heart. It’s the same feeling I get before I get into a fight, an adrenaline spike that allows me precision focus.
Detective Anthony sounds disappointed when she tells me, her voice softening.
“No. Unfortunately, the snow covered up his trail. We’re sweeping the city for any suspicious-looking figure with... busted knuckles.”
A thought occurs to me then, and I growl. “Do you think he would try to harm Emerald again?”
“No,” she assures me, her tone firm. “I think he’s lying low or trying to run. The snow gave him a head start, but understand that we are doing everything we can to look for him.”
I can’t help but ask, “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she says, before adding, “But I’m going to send an officer to the hospital to keep watch over Emerald. I sincerely doubt that he’s dumb enough to try to harm her again—especially there—but we’ll take all necessary measures to keep her safe.”
“Thank you,” I rasp, walking to the coffee pot to start it. I’m not going to be getting much sleep, not with this adrenaline pumping through my veins. I’m going to crash, and soon, but I can’t—not yet.
Not until I’ve seen it.
“I need to see the video, Detective.”
She hesitates in a way that makes my blood run cold before she asks, “...are you sure?”
All that does is confirm my worst fears.
But I need to see it. I need to see him. I need to see him put his hands on my wife. I need to see what my silence brought to her.
I need to see what she survived.
“I need to see the video,” I repeat, hearing her resigned sigh on the other end of the line.
“When can you come to the precinct?”
“Now.”