Chapter 19 #2
I keep telling myself that as I jog back to my cabin.
It’s going to be okay.
If she’s not feeling well, I’ll get Indy. Or bring her to the doctor.
If Mel’s upset, I can fix it. Like Rafe said, I’ll do whatever it takes.
Knowing Mel is struggling, that she was crying, that Eden was worried enough to send Rafe to talk to me… it brings everything into stark clarity.
Whatever Mel needs, I want to give it to her. And I can’t do that when she’s all the way across the country.
Once I figure out what’s going on with Mel, I’ll talk to her. Really talk. I’ll explain why I’m worried about keeping her safe. I’ll tell her how badly I want her to stay.
And I’ll tell her I love her, like I should have weeks ago.
I’m nearly to my house when a memory comes back to me.
It was only a few months after I’d lost my leg, and I was struggling with phantom pain and crushing depression.
One morning, while I moped over breakfast, I told Kaia she should leave me.
That she’d be better off without a broken man for a husband.
Kaia got so mad, she threw her toast at my head. Then she said, “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. I do. And I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
Ah, shit. Kaia would be so pissed at me.
I’m pissed at myself.
I’m going to fix this, I vow. And I’m going to stop assuming I know what’s best for Melissa. I’m going to lay it all out there and let her decide for herself.
With renewed determination, I race up the path to my front porch and skip the steps, choosing to leap over them in my haste instead. I knock at the door while I’m opening it, then burst into the living room calling out, “Mel? You here?”
But a quick glance around the living room and kitchen shows it empty. So I hurry into the hallway to check the bedroom, in case she’s still not feeling well and went in there to rest. I’m so certain she’s going to be in bed, I actually blink in disbelief when I don’t find her there.
I search the rest of the house, my worry building with each room she’s not in. And when I’ve gone through every room, including the closets—which is stupid, why would Mel be hiding in a closet, but I can’t help checking—my worry blossoms into outright fear.
Something’s wrong.
Yes, there could be a rational explanation for this. Mel could be visiting with Bea. Or Yara. She could have decided to go for an extra-long walk around the property. She could be in the main building, which I didn’t think to check in my hurry to get here.
Taking a steadying breath, I head into the kitchen to regroup. On the counter is the note I left for Mel, but I can’t tell if it was read.
As I look at the note, self-recrimination weighs on me. Why didn’t I wait for her to come back from her walk before heading to the office? Or, shit, I could have gone on her walk with her. But instead, I just let her go.
What-ifs don’t help, I remind myself. I can’t change the past. What’s important is now.
With that in mind, I pull out my phone and get to work.
First, I try Mel again, both calling and texting. But like before, in my office, she doesn’t respond.
Then I start methodically checking the interior cameras of the main building. We don’t typically use them, and in fact, they’re kept off for privacy. We’d know well before an enemy gets into the building, we figure. No need to have the interior cameras active unless it’s an emergency.
But this is an emergency. So the cameras are going on. Not in the apartments, but throughout the communal spaces, like the shared living room, the theater, and the game room.
Unfortunately, after several minutes of searching, I’ve still found no sign of Mel.
So I check the exterior cameras—the ones by the garage, the main gate, all along the perimeter fence, and around the main building.
“Fuck,” I hiss, after completing another fruitless search. I could go back through the recorded footage to see if Mel went by, but that’ll take time, and I don’t want to wait.
I need to find out where Mel is. Now.
What if she left, the scornful voice whispers. What if she packed up her things, called for a ride, and left? And now she’s at the airport, waiting for the next flight back to the East coast?
Shut up, I tell the voice. She wouldn’t leave without telling me.
Still. Fear urges me into the bedroom, where I fling open the closet in breathless anticipation of finding all of Mel’s things gone.
When I see her clothes still hanging from the rack, I sag with relief. She didn’t leave.
Just as I’m about to leave the closet, a thought occurs to me. Mel’s tracker. I wouldn’t trace her location under normal circumstances, but these circumstances feel far from normal. Just because I don’t have confirmation that she’s in trouble, my gut says she is. And it’s not often wrong.
But, shit. Once the tracking app is open, it shows Melissa’s location as being in the same room as me.
Which she clearly isn’t. But the bracelet with a little dog-shaped charm is.
A quick scan of the room shows it sitting on top of the dresser, beside the carved jewelry box she brought from New York.
“Dammit,” I curse. My fist slams onto the top of the dresser. Frustration builds until it feels like my body has no room for it. Fear claws at my chest.
“Why didn’t you wear it?” I ask out loud. “You said you liked it. That you wouldn’t mind wearing it.”
But Mel’s not here to answer my questions. She can’t tell me if she forgot, if she decided not to wear it because she didn’t think she needed it, or if she was so upset with me, she didn’t want to wear anything that reminded me of her—
My phone buzzes, startling me so badly I almost drop it.
For half a second, I think it’s Mel.
But it’s not. It’s Rafe, asking how everything’s going.
Feeling sick from disappointment, I message him back.
She’s not at the cabin. I checked all the cameras, and there’s no sign of her. She left her tracker on the dresser, so I can’t find her that way. I’m worried something’s really wrong.
Rafe’s response comes back almost immediately.
I’ll call the guys. See if anyone’s heard anything. Maybe Mel is at Bea’s. Or with Noelle or Yara. I’ll let you know ASAP.
Of course. Instead of panicking, Rafe is being logical about it. But Eden’s still safe at his house. He’s not feeling this bone-deep certainty that the woman he loves is in danger, that she could be hurt, missing…
What if she left the property and got kidnapped? Hit by a car? What if she’s somewhere in the woods, sick and unable to call for help?
Fear shifts to full-blown terror, not unlike how I felt when I got the call from the police after Kaia’s accident. I knew from the tone of their voice that it was bad. And I had this horrible feeling that my life would never be the same.
I can’t lose Mel, too. I can’t.
My phone buzzes again, but this time I’m looking at the screen, so I know it’s Rafe.
Talked to Indy, Ace, and Webb. They asked Bea, Noelle, and Yara. They haven’t seen Melissa today. We’re all heading to the conference room to figure out a plan.
The last flicker of hope blinks out. Mel isn’t safe with one of the women. She’s not answering her phone or her texts. I can’t use her tracker to locate her. I—
“Her phone,” I blurt. “Shit. Her phone.”
I can track her phone. The location won’t be perfect, but if Mel still has her phone on her—oh, I hope she does—it’ll give me a general idea of where to look.
Rushing back into the living room, I snatch up my laptop from the coffee table, drop onto the couch, and start clicking away. My heart is racing in time with the click of the mouse pad, speeding faster by the second.
Let her be okay, I silently pray. Let this all be a big misunderstanding. An overreaction. Anything other than what I fear it is.
Not five minutes later, I get a hit.
Mel’s phone is still on the property.
It looks to be about a half-mile from here, not far from the fence that surrounds the perimeter.
Logic cautions me not to get my hopes up. It reminds me that just because her phone is there doesn’t mean she is.
But it’s a clue. And that’s better than what I had before.
So I quickly send the location to my phone, then leap up from the couch. As I sprint for the door, I try calling Mel one more time. Hoping against hope that this will be the time she answers.
Once again, the call goes to voicemail.
This time, instead of asking Mel to call me back, I leave a different message.
“I’m on my way,” I tell her. “Just hang on until I get there.” My voice catches. “And Mel. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. But I love you.”