Chapter 22
Blair
A giant sign with a big smiling sun that reads, Welcome to Ashford Hollow! Where everyone is a friend! confirms my hitchhiking ride-givers as truthful, and my shoulders fall an inch farther away from my ears.
I’ve never set foot in a small town, but from what I’ve seen in reruns of Gilmore Girls, this is the epitome of one. We go through one singular streetlight before moving past a gas station and a diner that has two pickup trucks parked outside.
This place feels small. Too small, if I’m being honest.
The nice man named Todd pulls into a parking lot that sits in front of what has to be the world’s tiniest grocery store—Ashford Hollow Market.
“Sweetheart, Todd is going to park right here, and you can try to use my cell phone again, okay?” the woman in the passenger seat updates.
“Thank you,” I say, but my voice feels so freaking tiny and unfamiliar. Every cell inside my body is screaming for me to get out of the car and, I don’t know, head in the direction I just came from. Which is nuts.
Is he looking for me? Did he chase after me? Is he worried about me? Are not the thoughts a woman like me should be having about her blue-collar kidnapper.
The woman—whose name I can’t remember, even though she told it to me—turns around to face me and nods down at the screen of her phone that’s still in my hands. “Looks like you’ve got four bars, so you should be able to get service now.”
I stare down at the screen, focusing intently on trying to remember phone numbers. This is where technology screws us all. I’m so used to just finding the name and hitting call that it’s hard to remember the digits to my parents’ phones.
I shut my eyes and try to envision my mom’s contact information, and thankfully, it only takes me a few seconds to put it together.
Phone to my ear, I hear it start ringing.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Then it rolls over to voice mail.
Shit. My stomach drops to my damn toes.
I hang up and work to remember my dad’s number. This one comes easier. Phone to my ear again, I shut my eyes tight and pray he answers.
“Dammit,” I mutter when I get his voice mail too.
I hang up and try both of their numbers again. And when I still have no success, dread forms a deep pit in my stomach.
“They didn’t pick up?” the woman asks.
I shake my head.
“Well, Todd and I are going to run into the grocery store really quick, but you can wait here and keep trying with my phone while we’re inside, okay?”
I nod. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
They get out of the car, and I sit there trying to understand what in the hell is happening right now. A normal, sane person would have told this couple that she has been kidnapped and to take her to the nearest police station. But that’s not what I did at all.
Because you believe Kane. And Kylie. And Kane’s brothers.
I try to call my mom and dad again, but neither of them answers.
I’m tempted to demon dial or text 9-1-1 over and over until they see it, but something holds me back from going that far. I don’t know what I’m afraid it will create. Panic? Fear? A swarm of police showing up right here in this parking lot? Putting Kane and Kylie and Rook and Cal in danger?
The old Blair would’ve done that in a heartbeat.
But current Blair? The one who’s left after being kidnapped?
The one who knows what it feels like to kiss Kane and to sleep in his bed?
The one who survived using three-in-one body wash and helped Kylie make soup and didn’t perish from not being able to do her twenty-step nightly skin care routine? She’s changed.
I stare out toward the one streetlight, and the wind cuts through the damp fabric of Kane’s borrowed shirt. I wrap my arms around myself and step away from the car, already dialing my mother’s number again.
When she doesn’t answer, I press my palm to my forehead, trying to think.
There’s only one other person who would know the reality of everything. Only one other person who probably knows why I went missing in the first place. Holland.
My mind fills with memories of Kylie warning me about him. But the part that’s desperate to see my family overrules it all. Surely my parents have been in contact with him. Surely he’s probably a part of the search party too.
I shut my eyes and lean my head back and try like hell to remember his phone number.
It takes me three whole attempts and having to talk to two random strangers who are most definitely not Holland Thorne before I can figure out his actual number.
He answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Holland, it’s Blair. Blair Windsor,” I say, and I hate how small my voice sounds.
“Blair?” he questions, but his tone isn’t surprised. It’s just steady in a way that makes me furrow my brow.
“Yeah. I…it’s me,” I say, and I hesitate over what I should even tell him about my situation. I don’t know if he knows who kidnapped me from my driveway or killed the two men who came to pick me up. And you don’t want him to know if he doesn’t already.
“Are you okay?”
It’s a real mindfuck when you find yourself covering for your kidnapper, but that is my situation.
Because no matter what you’re trying to tell yourself, you’re in love with Kane.
The thoughts steal my breath.
“Blair? You still there?”
“Y-yeah,” I say, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. “I’m okay. I’m good. I…I don’t have my phone, and I need to get in touch with my parents but they’re not answering. It’s probably because they think it’s a spam call or something. I had to borrow someone’s phone.”
“Where are you, Blair?”
“Uh…” I pause, unsure if I should tell him, but end up telling him anyway. “It’s this little rural town. Ashford Hollow.”
“I’m nearby,” he says immediately. “Stay where you are.”
Nearby? Why would he be nearby?
And I almost ask him exactly that, but then he adds, “I’ll take you to your parents. They’re waiting in New York.”
“What? Why are my parents in New York?”
“Just sit tight, Blair. I’ll be there in a few, and I’ll explain everything to you. Just glad that you’re okay. Just glad that you’re safe.”
Relief already starts to seep in. Clearly, he knows what’s happening. He’s been in touch with my parents. And soon, they’ll know that I’m okay. Soon, I’ll be able to talk to my mom and get some answers. Some clarity.
Before Todd and his wife come out of the grocery store, a black Escalade pulls into the lot and Holland steps out. He’s wearing a suit and is perfectly composed in all the ways I’m used to men in my life being.
He’s not urgent or frantic but completely calm. I should probably find comfort in that, but something makes me feel a little on edge.
“You good?” he asks, smiling softly in my direction.
I nod, and when I turn back toward the couple’s car, I spot them walking out of the grocery store with a few bags in their hands. When they close the distance between us, I hand the nice lady her phone. “I really appreciated your help today.”
She looks toward where Holland stands by his Escalade.
“Is that your ride, sweetheart?”
“Yes. Thanks again for everything.”
“Of course, of course,” she says and reaches out to give me a tight hug. “You take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will.”
And then I walk toward where Holland has the back passenger door held open for me.
Once I’m inside and buckled in, he hops in the driver’s seat and starts heading out of the parking lot. But I can’t stop myself from looking back. At Todd and his friendly wife. At the small downtown area. At the forest.
Waiting for Kane’s face to appear.
But it doesn’t.
“It should only take us two hours to get to New York,” Holland updates.
“Did you tell my parents you were picking me up?”
“Of course,” he says. “And Damien knows you’re safe too.”
Damien? What does Damien have to do with this? I don’t want to see him.
“I really just want to see my mom and dad,” I tell him, and he just smiles at me in the rearview mirror.
“Everything is going to be okay, Blair. You’re safe.”
But his words don’t match how I’m feeling inside. I don’t feel safe. I feel…uncertain. I feel…on edge. I feel unsteady.
“Here, have a drink of water,” he says and hands me a bottle from the front seat. “I also have some snacks too.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“At least drink the water, Blair.”
I let out a deep sigh, but I comply with his request. I mean, considering I just ran through the forest for God knows how long, I am thirsty. I’m probably hungry too, but the idea of food right now is repulsive.
I take a sip from the bottle and then a few more sips, and before I know it, I’ve chugged the whole damn thing.
Holland keeps his eyes on the road the entire time, but everything else about him feels like it’s focused on me.
Why was he nearby when I called?
Why hasn’t he asked me anything about what happened?
Why hasn’t he mentioned anything about my mom and dad being worried or a search party or…?
My thoughts come to an abrupt halt when my eyes grow heavy and my mind turns foggy. My stomach clenches with nausea, and all of a sudden, the back seat feels like it’s spinning.
I feel…strange.
I feel…
“Holland? I don’t…feeeeel…so…goooood,” I say, but my words come out like I’m talking in slow motion.
“Just rest your eyes, Blair. Everything will be fine.”
I try to open my mouth to say something, but then everything goes black.
Trust is a funny thing—sometimes, you fight it, even though your whole body agrees. And sometimes, you accidentally give it to the entirely wrong person for free.