Chapter Twelve Derek
CHAPTER TWELVE
Derek
I woke up to the sound of thick pellets of rain battering the windows in the living room, the kind of rain that made you question every life choice that didn’t involve staying in bed.
My brain, still foggy from sleep, registered the storm’s relentless drumming before it caught up with my body, which was already staging a protest. I didn’t want to move—not even an inch—because I could feel the stiffness creeping up the base of my spine.
It was that kind of creeping, insidious ache that told me attempting to move, which was inevitable, would be the equivalent of setting off a small explosion in my back.
Eventually, though, I couldn’t ignore reality any longer.
My bladder had opinions, and none of them included staying in bed.
Groaning like a ninety-year-old with a vendetta against mornings, I peeled myself out of bed, every joint in my body protesting the movement.
Bracing myself against the dull pain, I stretched my arms high above my head and twisted gently at the waist, trying to coax my stubborn muscles into something resembling functionality. It worked… barely.
Once I’d gained enough mobility to shuffle across the room, I glanced around and noticed something odd: the living room was too quiet.
Suspiciously quiet. My dog, Tora, and my reluctant roommate, Jasmine, were both conspicuously absent.
Again. This wasn’t exactly a shock—Jasmine was an early riser, and she’d taken to walking Tora like it was her personal mission to turn him into the healthiest dog in town, or possibly make him switch allegiances.
A plan that could possibly be working, because I found it vaguely annoying that my dog seemed to love her more than me.
Okay, maybe not vaguely. He’d bonded with her faster than you could say “treat,” and I was still trying to decide how I felt about that.
On one hand, I was thrilled he had another human he trusted. On the other, he was my dog, damn it.
What bothered me more this morning, though, was the sound of the rain.
Not just rain—a torrential, monsoon-level downpour that seemed determined to wash away the entire neighborhood.
Combine that with the fact that it was already late enough for even Jasmine to have called it quits, and my unease began to grow. This didn’t make sense.
I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and dialed Jasmine’s number.
It went straight to voicemail, and Jasmine’s grown-up, professional, and annoyingly cheerful voice telling me to leave a message did nothing to calm my nerves.
Fantastic. Trying not to spiral into a full-blown panic, I tossed on a hoodie, some jeans, and my rain boots, grabbed my umbrella, and decided to go looking for them.
Because, clearly, I had nothing better to do than play hero in the middle of a storm.
The rain hit me like a wall as soon as I stepped outside.
My umbrella was laughably inadequate against the deluge, and within seconds, water was dripping down my face and soaking through my clothes.
Tora and I had a usual walking route that led to the library, so I started there, squinting through the downpour and trying not to lose my footing on the slick pavement.
The fenced-in area behind the library, one of Tora’s favorite spots, was deserted.
The gate swung open and shut in the wind, creaking ominously, but there was no sign of them. My heart grew heavier.
I called out Tora’s name, my voice barely audible over the storm.
Nothing. Not even a bark. My heart was starting to pound now, a mix of worry and frustration fueling every step as I made my way along the creek that led to the mill.
Maybe they’d gone inside to take shelter from the rain and had gotten stuck.
It was the only logical explanation that didn’t involve me spiraling into worst-case scenarios.
By the time I reached The Mill, I was thoroughly drenched and more than a little cranky.
The warm, inviting smell of coffee and cinnamon hit me as soon as I stepped inside, a stark contrast to the chaos outside.
For a moment, I just stood there in the doorway, shaking water off my umbrella and dripping onto the floor.
“Hey, Chief,” David called from behind the counter, his ever-present smile faltering as he took in my bedraggled appearance. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, uh, nothing,” I said, trying and failing to sound casual. My voice came out tight and unconvincing, much like the half smile I attempted to plaster onto my face. “I was just wondering if Jasmine and Tora had stopped by here to get out of the rain.”
David’s brows knit together as he set down the coffeepot he’d been holding. “Well, no, I haven’t seen them.” His voice was tinged with concern. “Let me check with Eleanor. Baby?”
“Yes?” Eleanor emerged from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. Her long curly hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her eyes, sharp and observant, flicked to me immediately.
“Have you seen Jasmine and Tora?” David snaked an arm around her waist as she drew closer.
“Actually, yes,” Eleanor said, her expression thoughtful.
My stomach did a little flip. “I saw them near the library before it started raining. I forgot the keys to the storage closet and had to run home to grab them.” She turned to David, who nodded.
“But that was hours ago. How long have they been gone?”
“I… I’m not sure,” I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. My face must have given away just how worried I was, because Eleanor’s expression softened immediately.
“I’m going to make you some coffee,” she said firmly. “David’s going to give you a ride home in case they come back. Then I’m going to make some calls. I’m sure they’re both fine. They’re probably taking shelter from the rain somewhere. No need to worry until there’s something to worry about.”
The ride back to The Derry House was silent. David didn’t press me for details, and I appreciated his restraint. Sitting at home waiting for the phone to ring was the last thing I wanted to do, but Eleanor was right. There was nothing I could do except wait.
By the time an hour that felt like an afternoon had passed, the rain still hadn’t let up, and there was no sign of Jasmine or Tora.
The apartment felt oppressive, the ticking of the clock growing louder with every passing minute.
I was done waiting. The prospect of losing Tora was terrifying, but what scared me even more was my concern for Jasmine.
She drove me crazy, sure, but the thought of something happening to her…
I couldn’t even finish the thought. I had every reason in the world to despise her, but no matter how much I’d tried over the course of our time at Miller’s Cove, I couldn’t.
The fear and worry clawing at my chest were revealing deeper feelings about Jasmine—feelings that I’d tried to ignore until I was faced with the prospect of never seeing her again.
I’d spent weeks trying to convince myself that my feelings for her were some misguided form of nostalgia.
That maybe these emotions were my way of clinging to a version of Jasmine Morgan that no longer existed—or maybe never existed at all.
But standing there, staring out at the relentless rain, all I knew was that I needed both of them safe and back home.
And I wasn’t going to rest until that happened.
I’d changed into a set of dry clothes and was just about to grab my phone from the charger when it started buzzing.
The sound startled me, a jarring intrusion into the tense silence of the apartment.
My heart leapt, hoping to see Jasmine’s name on the caller ID, but instead, it was David’s.
I fought to hide my annoyance at not hearing Jasmine’s voice and silently prayed that David had some good news for me.
“Hey, David. What’s good?” I wedged the phone between my shoulder and ear, grabbing my keys and wallet as I made my way to the door. David’s next words stopped me in my tracks and almost made me drop the phone.
“Hey, Derek. I’m at the vet’s office with someone you might know.”
“What is Tora doing at the vet’s office? Is he okay? Is Jasmine with him?”
“He’s fine. He’s just getting checked out. No sign of Jasmine, though. I can wait until the doc gives him the all clear and drop him off for you—”
“Nah, that won’t be necessary. I’m on my way.”
I ended the call and tried Jasmine again. I was almost relieved she didn’t pick up because I was too angry to control what I would say. Why the hell would she take my dog out for a walk in the rain and then lose him? Why the hell wasn’t she answering her phone? Where the hell was she?
The horrible possibility that something could have happened to Jasmine flashed in my mind for a split second, but I pushed it away. Anger was easier to handle than fear, for now.
It was still pouring when I arrived at the vet’s office, the rain showing no signs of giving me a break.
My umbrella had already given up on its job, flipping inside out twice on the walk in from the cab, so I arrived looking less like a concerned dog owner and more like a soggy blob with anxiety issues.
I didn’t even have to give my name before being ushered into an exam room by a receptionist who probably wanted to save the lobby from my puddle-making abilities.
Inside, David was crouched next to Tora, trying and failing to keep him calm while Roger, the vet—and, as fate would have it, one of my poker buddies—attempted to bribe my dog with treats.
Tora, ever the skeptic, looked at the treats like they were poison and glanced back at David, clearly unimpressed by his effort.
I was still hoping that Jasmine had magically appeared between my phone call with David and my arrival at the vet’s office, but I was disappointed.