Emersyn
“Where is Dustin?” Catie turns to me as the band finishes the third song, concern written on her face. “How much has he had to drink? Do you know?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m not his keeper…”
I don’t even want to freaking be here.
Catie flips her hair over her shoulder, and then pushes past me. “I have to find him. This is only like our second date, and we work together. I can’t just let him die of alcohol poisoning or something. He’s going to start avoiding me again.”
My eyes widen, and spin on my heels, jogging to catch up to her. “I’m sure he’s totally fine. He’s probably going to laugh when we find him.”
“Or not…” Catie’s hand slaps over her mouth as we round the corner of the stage, the back part of the stage casting a deep shadow across the grass. “Dustin!” Catie takes off running toward where I see a body slumped on the ground.
I blink, trying to discern what I’m even looking at. “Is he…” My mind flashes to Adam’s body in the snow, and my stomach lurches, bile shooting up the back of my throat.
“His nose is bleeding!” Catie drops to her knees beside the lump on the ground. “Em!” She shouts at me, and it jars me forward. I stand back as I make it to him, staring down at blood oozing from his nose and running down the side of his face.
“I should call the paramedics…” My voice trails off, as I wrap my arms around my body. “Maybe he fell…”
“Dustin,” Catie shakes him, and thankfully his eyes flutter open. “What happened?”
He groans, and then grabs for the back of his head. “That dude came out of nowhere.”
“Someone did this to you?” Catie demands, her brows furrowed.
“Some… Well…” His voice trails off, and then looks up at me, his eyes starting to clear. “They thought I was with you.”
My heart skips a beat. “What?”
“Yeah,” Dustin purses his lips together. “I think? I don’t know. We don’t know anyone here.”
Catie looks at me, and she doesn’t even have to say it. We might be ten hours from home, but I do know someone here. And she knows that’s the only reason I ever agreed to this trip.
Closure.
“Are you certain he knew me?” I press, taking a step forward as he sits up from where he’s slumped, his blond hair a mess. “Did he say my name?”
Dustin is quiet for a moment. “No… He didn’t say your name. In fact, maybe he was just really confused. He seemed to think he fucked up when he left.” His voice slurs with the words, and I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or whatever the hell happened to his head.
“Did the guy want money?”
Dustin shakes his head, wincing. “No. He just seemed really fucking pissed off at me, then I asked if I was with Em? I don’t know. Or maybe I assumed?” He pauses, resting his head against his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t really know. I just need some water.”
“We’ll get you water,” Catie says softly, rising to her feet and offering a hand. “Maybe we should go to medical? You clearly have a concussion.”
“No, I’m fine. No medical. Just back to the hotel.” He gives her this smile as lifts himself to his feet. “I have a pretty hard head.”
I meet Catie’s eyes, and she gives me a look that tells me she already knows. “I have to go. Can you guys Uber back to the hotel?”
Catie’s frown deepens. “You don’t know that’s who did this.”
“No, but it’s…” I feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “It could’ve been.”
“Who?” Dustin cuts in.
“Someone from Em’s past,” Catie grits out. “Someone who needs to stay there.”
Only because that’s where he wants to be.
“He had a dog,” Dustin mumbles, his words almost incoherent. “It was a really big one. I think.” He pauses. “Maybe he didn’t have a dog.”
My hands begin to sweat, my stomach churning. Gunner. Could Turner have really been here? Why would he have been here? I try to reason through it all, trying to come up with why he would be here.
He hates crowds. He hates people.
This makes no sense. But maybe it does.
“You should let it go,” Catie says as I start to back away. “You can search this whole place if that’s what you want, but it’s not going to change the fact that you were right there.” She points back to the stage. “And he didn’t come to you. If he was here, he left.”
“He might’ve thought—”
“Em, come on, it’s been eight months.”
I hate the fucking sympathy etched on her face. I hate the way she looks at me like I’m going crazy. “I have to.” I turn to Dustin, who’s leaning on Catie. “Where did he go? Did you see where he went?”
“Um…” Dustin blinks a few times, and then turns his head. “Toward the parking lot. He mumbled some shit into a phone? I don’t know. Fuck, I don’t know if that even happened.”
But it’s all I need. Even if he’s not sure.
I spin on my heels and head for the parking lot, my heart racing in my ribcage. All the emotions I’ve been suppressing and trying to pretend don’t exist come bubbling up to the surface.
I’m so desperate, this is fucking sad.
I slip through the gates, my eyes scanning the sea of cars. There are so many people here, and that only further drives the point that it makes no sense for Turner to have been here in the first place.
Where would he even be? I take off through the rows, my calves starting to ache at my pace. I want to scream his name, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Instead, I just scrutinize every face I pass.
Finally, I stop at the final row of vehicles, catching my breath as I take one more scan. Maybe I should go back inside? Maybe Dustin was wrong about the direction he went? Maybe it wasn’t Turner.
The sound of someone clearing their throat catches my attention, and I whip my head to the left, meeting a pair of glassy, gray-blue eyes beneath a black cowboy hat.
“Sorry,” I mutter, realize I’m blocking his entrance into the driver’s side of his truck. “I… Um… Yeah.” The emotions that I was battling the entire time rise to the surface, and I feel the sting of tears in my eyes, as I back out of his way.
He glances to his truck, then back to me. “Can’t find your car?” His voice is calm, but also commanding, making his entire presence intimidating.
I shake my head. “More like someone… I guess.”
The man just stands there, staring at me, his hand on the door handle of the truck. “You know, you don’t seem very sure right now. Should I call someone for you?”
I let out a dry laugh, suddenly feeling really stupid. “No, no reason to call anyone. I’m fine.” I force a smile, meeting the guy’s blue eyes again. When I do this time, I see them slightly soften as he peers down at me.
“Just hang in there,” he pops the door open. “Things will get better. Probably.”
I furrow my brow as he climbs in and starts the engine. What the fuck is he talking about? I can barely process the eerie feeling in my chest, as the truck pulls forward. I watch it as it makes a hard left, and then flashes its brights at another vehicle.
And then that truck pulls out, too.
Squinting, I try to see through the black tinted windshield. But I can’t.
I run my hands over my face, letting out a muffled sob. I hate you, Turner. I hate you for doing this to me. I reach into my pocket, and pull out my keys, my grief morphing to anger as I make my way back to my own truck.
I can’t do this anymore. I need my closure.
And I’m getting it. Today.
***
The cabin looks different in August, and as I pull up to the gate, I immediately spot the lock. My hands tremble as I put my truck in park, and then kill the engine.
I should turn around and leave.
But as I close my eyes, he’s still all I see, standing at this goddamn gate and telling me I have to go—that he can’t do it.
Maybe you never really loved me, Turner. Maybe this is just a trauma bond like my therapist says. I fling the truck door open, and then slide out, thankful for the breeze. I stomp my way up to the lock on the gate, reaching out and flipping it around.
Ugh. It really is locked.
My heart drops in my chest as I step back, trying to come up with some other method to get in. If only I had a fucking phone number for him. Because I know the moment I cross this fence, and start up the hill, I could end up buried with the others.
Good riddance. Let him.
With that, I walk around the gate and scale the fence. I’m not agile, but I still manage, dropping over on the other side. The trees are still as thick as ever, and I choose to walk the driveway.
I’m not trying to be sneaky.
See me, Turner. Shoot me. Whatever.
At least then, maybe I’ll feel something. I move quickly, the driveway a mix of gravel and dirt rather than snow-covered like I remember. The cabin comes into view a few minutes later, and my breath catches in my throat.
Shit. I bat the tear away that rolls down my cheek and pause a few feet from the porch. There’s no dog barking. There’s no signs of life at all.
“Where are you?” I call out, my voice coming out weak and pathetic. I walk up to the front door and beat my fist against it until it’s too painful to continue. “Turner!” I say his name for the first time in months. “Turner!”
I jiggle the knob, but it’s locked.
My heart hammers in my chest. I have so much I need to tell him—about the investigation into Adam, about how it turned into Aaron, too, and how it’s all blown over… And I’m still paranoid and stressed every day. I have no one to lean on except myself.
“Because you quit on me,” I mutter. “You quit!” I slam my fist into the door one last time, but the thud is hardly satisfying.
And I should leave. I really should.
But somehow, I find myself walking around the house, climbing onto the back porch. I try that knob, and I shake it.
Locked.
I peer through the window, the curtains not entirely closed. There, in the corner of the living room, is a very much dead Christmas tree. My stomach twists into knots at the sight of it.
Maybe it wasn’t him there today. Maybe he left. Maybe he’s gone.
Like really gone.
I shut my eyes, stifling the sob that racks my body, as I lean against the rails for a moment.
It’s over. I have to let him go.
I take a deep breath and force myself to get up. I eye the barn as I make my way back toward the road. I know it’ll be locked, too. It’s got a brand-new steel door in place of the old one, and the fact that he can fix the door but forget about me, only makes it all worse.
Fuck Turner. Fuck him. This was such a waste of time.
My shoes crunch the rocks as I make it back to fence, and then climb it. I drop back over and then freeze.
Who the hell is that?
There’s a black one-ton truck parked just off to the side of mine. It’s not blocking me…but it’s there. My pulse jumps to my throat, and I rip my driver’s side door open. I climb in and lock it.
I peer up into the rearview, and then throw it in reverse. As I do, I’m able to just catch a glimpse through the dark window…
Of a black cowboy hat.
What the hell? Did that guy follow me? Is he a detective or something?
In a burst of fear, I stomp the gas and leave it all behind.
Including my fucking heart.