7. Declan
Chapter Seven
DECLAN
I’m in the middle of a dream—the kind of dream you don’t want to wake up from. Georgia’s walking toward me, her red dress pushed up over her thighs and her lips that same bright red shade. She runs her hand down between those luscious tits and then between her thighs, looking directly at me. I start to run towards her when a thumping noise wakes me up.
My cock’s hard as I roll over, my arms searching for my girl before I even open my eyes. But there are only cold sheets. I sit up so quickly that my head spins. Is she in the bathroom?
I stand and pull on a pair of shorts, the air cool against my exposed skin. Walking out into the hall, I check the bathroom. It still smells of sex and bath foam, which does no favors for my throbbing cock. She’s not in the guest bedroom. The thumping sound from the living room increases in tempo. I head towards it, brushing my hair away from my eyes.
Albert is outside, his fur wet as he thumps his paw against the window. I always leave it open a crack so he can get inside. He’s banging it back and forth, staring at me like he’s outraged.
“What’s up, Al? Wet? Hungry?”
He makes a chattering sound as I go to find him some berries from the kitchen. I grab some and walk back, holding them out. They’re his favorite. Usually he’d gobble them up, but instead he glares at me.
He starts jumping up and down. He’s trying to tell me something, but I’m not smart enough to understand what he means. And I’m too distracted by Georgia not being here.
Could she have gone out to my truck? It’s unlikely, but I want to check. I pull on the rest of my clothes, shrug on a rain jacket and open the front door. Albert squeaks in delight, running up my shoulder and tapping my head with his fist.
“Give me a second, buddy.” We walk to the truck. Albert’s staring at me, making little dashes out to the edge of the backyard. I don’t know what I was expecting, but Georgia’s not here.
“C’mon, Al. Get in if you’re coming to town.” I hold the door of the truck open. He runs in circles a couple of times and then crawls in. I get out my phone and text Georgia, asking where she’s gone.
Did her aunt pick her up? And if so, why? I can’t make sense of it after last night. That overwhelming certainty that she’s mine is giving me a calmness, but underneath is concern. Could something have happened to her? She was so open last night, but her absence right now is like a kick in the gut.
Albert taps the dashboard, then the windscreen, and I laugh.
“Keen to get going? Me too.” Turning the engine on, the radio starts blaring. I’m about to turn it off when the announcer’s voice comes on over the end of the track they’re playing.
“Pleased to let you folks who might be sleeping off a hangover after the big party last night that the town road is open. The sheriff told me it’s been clear since six this morning, so thank you to everyone who helped to clear the logs off the road. And now, here’s Knock on Wood sung by the incomparable Amii Stewart…”
I drive the winding road down into Snowflake. Last night’s storm left branches scattered like confetti across the forest, but the roads are clear. Rain starts to fall more heavily, the sky a strange greenish-gray color. That storm may not have played itself out yet.
As I park outside Georgia’s aunt’s place, my phone beeps.
Mav: Bro. Who was that girl you were with last night?
Declan: You were spying on me? I didn’t even know you were there.
Mav: I was lurking in the shadows. Stealth mode. Chief likes to have one of us at every event up there for safety reasons. Anyway, answer my question.
Declan: You didn’t say hello? I would have introduced you.
Mav: To who?
Declan: To my future wife!
My brother sends me a gif of someone fainting, which makes me smile. But underneath it, that sense of worry is consuming everything else. I need Georgia in front of me right now. To sit her on my lap, stroke her hair, and tell her how much I love her. Nothing else is important.
I run my hands over my rumpled hair and knock on the door of the little house. Wind chimes on the porch clatter as the wind blows harder. Georgia’s aunt wrenches the door open, her eyes bleary.
“Is Georgia at home?” I get straight to the point. No time to fuck around with pleasantries.
Her face falls. “No. I thought you’d have given her a ride home to her place. I saw the two of you dancing…I assumed. And I was scared of the thunder. Come inside.”
I follow her in. Every surface is covered in cats, apart from a huge television in the corner. As I stare at it, another cat emerges from behind the screen and comes over to rub against my legs.
“Do we need to call the Sheriff? Do you think she’s been kidnapped?”
I shake my head. “She was with me last night.”
“Ohhhh!” The aunt smiles broadly.
“She wasn’t there when I woke up. I thought she’d be back here.” I glance outside, where Albert is staring at me like I’m insane, his paws pressed against the glass of my truck’s passenger window.
“Georgia’s probably gone home to freshen up. I know I would after a night with a handsome woodsman like yourself…”
“I’ll check her place. Thanks.”
She puts her hand on my arm. “Be careful with that girl. She’s sensitive. Some guys at school were mean to her about her scars, her Mom told me she never got over it. That’s why she’s so covered up all the time in those old-fashioned styles.”
“I promise.” I head back out to the truck and Albert starts knocking on the window when he sees me. I drive back up the mountain road to her cabin. Her car’s outside, but there’s no answer to my knock. Tristan’s done a good job of making the roof secure and it looks like it stayed watertight through the storm. I double-check she’s not inside, circling the property and peering through the windows as the rain comes down even harder.
Albert stays in the truck while I’m inspecting the cabin. When I stand outside, debating whether or not to break inside, he finds the horn and starts tapping it. I walk back over to the truck. He presses the horn again and then jumps up and down, chirping.
He’s trying to tell me something. All my logic about where Georgia should be hasn’t worked out, so maybe I should pay more attention to my clever racoon friend. But what does he want me to do?
I drive back home. Albert’s happy for me to be heading back, chirruping and standing to look out of the window. When we get home, I open the window and he jumps out. He dashes away from the cabin, then back to me, then out to the edge of the yard.
I follow him, my boots sliding on the mud.
There are tracks here.
Small footprints.
Georgia must have walked back. But she should have been home by now. Albert’s been trying to tell me all along, while I’ve been wasting time going into town.
Shit.
He dashes ahead of me and I jog to keep up with him.
I will find her.