And given recent events, I have the wherewithal to make that happen.
I let out a light chuckle, but the sound is more harsh than humorous. “Maybe one day, man. See you tomorrow.”
“See ya!”
My knuckles pop as I grip my bag. I’m halfway to my truck when Nash calls my name.
“Dante!”
I bristle but turn around to face Nash. I’m exhausted; I just want to go home and try to find Essence.
“What’s up?” I ask, trying to sound lighthearted, but there’s a rough edge to my tone.
“You have a phone call in the office,” he tells me.
My bag nearly slips through my fingers and falls to the ground. Could it be her?
“Who is it?” I ask.
Nash swears and says, “I forgot to ask for her name?—”
I drop my bag and run back into the firehouse to Nash’s office. Immediately, I pick up the phone.
“Hello?” I answer, out of breath.
“Hey,” she says.
I close my eyes and sit down in Nash’s chair; it’s such a relief to hear her voice. I knew she’d be safe, but hearing for myself that she’s okay means that I can breathe a little better now.
The two of us talk on the phone for a little bit, and then I hang up.
“Everything alright?” Nash asks as I leave the office.
I shoot him a shit-eating grin. “It is now. Thanks, Cap. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I walk back to my truck, hop inside, and lift the sleeve of my hoodie, smiling like a madman.
There, burned into the flesh on the inside of my left arm, isEssence.
My flower.
Finally, Essence, I’m coming for you.
CHPATER 30
ESSENCE
In all ofthe craziness of yesterday and last night, I’d completely forgotten about work. I called my boss earlier and started to explain to her what happened, but she told me that my boyfriend had called and let her know that I’d be out the rest of the week.
She definitely seemed weirded out about that since I’d just told her he’d died—and I can only assume that Dante is the one to thank for that—but she didn’t question it any further and told me to take care of myself.
It’s about nine o’clock now, several hours after I called Dante earlier. What’s taking him so long?
Almost as if on cue, the doorbell rings. I check the doorbell camera on Ebony’s tablet and see Dante standing on the porch holding Lunchbox in one arm, and a bouquet of flowers in the other.
My stomach flutters violently at the sight of him. Quickly checking myself in the mirror, I smooth down some flyaways and open the door.
“Hi,” I say a bit breathlessly when I see him. He looks so good standing here in his black jeans and boots, plain white t-shirt, and brown jacket.
