Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
CORA
Boston walking around carefully so as not to touch anything has me biting my nails as I watch him go back and forth to different areas of the house.
I know I shouldn’t be worried. She’s a grown-ass woman, and she’ll contact me when she wants to.
But this isn’t like her. We don’t go days without talking to each other.
She may have been hurt by me telling her the truth, but she would never ignore me the way it appears she’s doing right now.
There’s something in the pit of my stomach telling me something’s not right.
“We can leave. I’ve already requested to have Delaney’s cell phone pinged so I can track her last location,” Boston says on his way out the door.
I reach out and touch his arm, stopping him in his tracks. His gaze flicks to my hand, and I pull it back, apologizing before I ask, “Do you think she is okay?”
“There are no signs of a struggle, and she has her phone. So possibly.” He heads outside, and I take in the room where I last saw her—the one where I told her James wasn’t who he said he was and that he was living a double life behind her back.
I know none of this is technically my fault because I’m not the deceiving shithead in the situation, but a part of me feels guilty for telling her about him.
Am I the reason she wanted to get away?
Does she not want to discuss it with me?
I’m sure Rylas has tried calling her. He’s possibly even attempted to see her again since that first morning after I told her about him. Maybe that’s part of the reason she left. But I don’t know because she won’t talk to me, and that fills my stomach with dread.
Finally, I step outside, then close and lock the door behind me.
I turn to find all three men waiting on the sidewalk.
Immediately, I feel Arlo’s eyes on me, but not in the same way I usually do.
Worry is etched in his expression for me.
Boston leans over and says something to Arlo, then he gets into his car and leaves.
“Boston said he found nothing,” Sebastian tells me as he glances around. “Good to see you again, Arlo.” Then he goes to the car, climbs into the back seat, and shuts the door.
Arlo and I are now basically alone.
Setting his hands on my arms and then rubbing them up and down, he says, “Come home with me.”
“No.”
“I’ll find her,” he insists.
Meeting his gaze, I ask, “How?”
“I’ve already got others looking into things. I will find her.”
“Okay. When you do, I’m yours,” I tell him.
“That’s a large statement to make.”
“I’m telling you the truth. Find her for me.”
“And if you don’t like what I find?” he asks.
“What does that mean?” His phone beeps, and my stomach bottoms out, my heart racing as he ignores his phone. “What are you expecting?”
“What if she did run away? What if she ran away with him?” he questions.
“She would never have done that. Trust me.”
“You seem to be sure of that.”
“One day, Arlo, when you let someone in, you’ll be sure of their actions and motivations,” I tell him.
“I hope that day is soon.” As he pins me with his gaze, he leans in and kisses my cheek, his lips lingering there.
And I let them. Because it feels good, and, believe it or not, he’s starting to become a comfort to me.
I’m not even sure when that happened. “Good night, beautiful. Try to get some sleep,” he whispers near my ear before he straightens.
I keep my gaze trained on him as he strides away until I can no longer see him.
“Woman, get in the car and stop dreaming about that man.” I turn to find Sebastian holding the car door open for me. I was so focused on Arlo that I never even saw him get back out of the car. “I think you should marry him,” he proclaims as I climb into the back seat.
“W-What?” I stammer.
“Marry him,” he states as if that’s the answer to everything.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I scoff. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? When was the last time you were with a man who was this obsessed with you? A man who shows up in the middle of the night because you asked him to. Kisses you good night even after he asked you to go home with him, and you turned him down?”
“Arlo doesn’t want marriage,” I tell him, to which he makes a screeching sound, making me jump.
“So, you’ve thought about marrying him.” His eyes spark with excitement.
I shut the car door, and we leave Delaney’s house.
“I know what you’re doing,” I say. “And, no, I have not thought about marrying Arlo. He simply isn’t that type.”
“So, why does he send your mother flowers every week?” The question hits like a slap, my mouth parting as I blink at him, struggling to form a single word. Did he also pay for her care? It had to be him. He is the only person I know with that much money at his disposal.
After blinking a few times, I say, “He what?”
“I found the florist and talked to them after you mentioned it. It wasn’t hard to figure out it was him.
” He shrugs. “I confronted him about it while you and Boston were inside. His response was, and I quote, ‘Because I know she would never accept them.’” He then starts to fan himself.
“That man has fallen hard. And I think you’re falling too.
Otherwise, you wouldn’t agree to keep seeing him. ”
He’s right. I am developing pretty strong feelings for Arlo, but every time I think I have it sorted out in my head, something arises that pushes me back.
It’s like someone’s holding a red flag and a green flag at the same time, and I’m dancing between both of them with him.
But I must admit that I enjoy the red flags in the bedroom.
On the drive to Sebastian’s house, he continues pushing about Arlo, telling me to give him a chance. I didn’t realize he was on the Arlo bandwagon. When we drop Sebastian off, I tell him I will let him know if I hear anything about Delaney.
Alone in the car now, my mind spins.
What if Arlo is like Rylas—a complete fucking liar?
He’s already keeping things from me. Things he thinks I can’t handle.
Maybe he is right. Maybe knowing would only break me.
But then there’s the way his touch stays with me long after he’s gone, like some sort of imprint I can’t shake.
The way his eyes follow me is intense and unrelenting, like I am the only thing in the room that matters.
It messes with my head. Because my mind screams at me to be cautious, to run, but my body keeps leaning in and craving him. Despite everything, I don’t know.
I attempt to call Delaney again, even though it’s late.
But this time, it doesn’t even ring. My concern for her grows, even with the relief that Arlo got Boston involved.
Because despite everything, I feel like I’ll soon be getting an answer to what the fuck is going on, and I might not like the answer I get.
What if I’ve ruined our friendship by telling her the person she loves is a liar?
But then I remind myself she wouldn’t stop being my friend over something like this.
We’ve been through a lot worse shit together, like me finding out my mother had dementia and needed to be put into a home, and her finding out she had cancer.
I’m sure a man could never tear us apart.
At least, that’s what I hope.
When I arrive back at my place, I get out of the car and head to the entrance as Matty drives off.
That’s when I hear footsteps on the sidewalk behind me.
Usually, I wouldn’t even register them, but something about their gait seems heavy and measured, as if each step is deliberate.
Threatening. A chill creeps up my spine, and instinctively, I glance back and to the left.
Rylas.
He’s storming toward me with a pace that doesn’t falter, eyes wild, jaw clenched.
There’s something unhinged in his expression, as if he’s barely holding himself together—like reason has already left the building, and all that’s left is rage.
By the time he reaches me, my heart is hammering against my ribs, and the madness on his face tells me this won’t be a simple conversation.
I’m frozen in place.
I didn’t even manage to unlock the door.
I grip my keys in my hand, ready to hit him if the need arises.
And that’s when I notice something glinting in his fist. It catches the light, a flash of silver that doesn’t belong.
My stomach drops. He lifts his arm with a terrifying calm, and before I can react, before my brain can even catch up, there’s a sharp prick in my upper arm.
I gasp, stumbling back a step. My hand flies to the spot, and that’s when I feel it—a hypodermic needle lodged in my skin.
“Fuck,” I whisper, yanking it out with trembling fingers.
But it’s too late.
The world tilts. The ground shifts beneath my feet, and my limbs grow heavy. Too heavy. I blink hard, trying to focus, but everything around me dissolves into shadows.
Panic claws at my chest, but my body won’t listen.
He’s drugged me.
“You keep stepping in places you have no business in,” Rylas growls, his voice low and dark.
He looks like hell.
Dark shadows bruise the skin beneath his eyes, and his face is gaunt and sunken with exhaustion. His clothes are hanging off him in wrinkled, strained disarray, as if he has been living out of his car and hasn’t changed in a week.
But it’s his eyes that have fear churning in my stomach. Cold. Unforgiving. There is only hardness behind them, a man capable of things I never imagined. His glare pins me in place—he has already decided my fate and is just waiting for the right moment to deliver it.
“What yooou doin’?” I slur out as whatever he injected me with takes further control of me. He snatches the phone from my slackened grip.
Goddammit! I’m getting weaker. Tired. I blink a few times, trying to stay awake, but it’s a battle I won’t win.
“Stupid fucking bitch,” he grumbles just before everything goes black.