"You're tolerable. There's a difference."
They walked in silence for a few minutes, boots sinking into the dirt, the vineyard slowly giving way to the manicured lawn as they approached the main house. The sky was lightening at the edges, stars fading into pre-dawn gray.
Devon's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, expecting maybe a text from his dad asking about harvest numbers.
Instead, he had an email. From Emery. It was strange. Texting was their standard form of communication unless it was work-related.
Except it wasn't her Stone Bridge email address. It was a Gmail account he didn't recognize.
His steps slowed. Bryson walked a few paces ahead before realizing Devon had stopped.
"What's wrong?" Byson asked.
Devon opened the email, his stomach already tightening. Something was off.
Devon,
I need time and space. All this talk about me possibly being David's daughter is too much. And with everything else going on—the attacks, the danger—I don't want to put anyone else at risk. I need to get away for a while and figure things out. Coming back to Stone Bridge might not have been the right decision.
Please don't reach out. I'll be in touch when I've had some time to think.
I'm sorry.
Emery
Devon read it twice, his heart rate picking up with each word. Then he looked at Bryson, who'd walked back to stand beside him.
"What?" Bryson asked.
Devon handed him the phone silently.
Bryson read, his expression darkening. "This doesn't sound like her. She wouldn’t just leave. Not with her father here. Not with everything that’s going on.”
"It's not her." Devon's voice was flat, certain. "She wouldn't—" He took off running. His gaze focused on getting to Emery. Everything else was just a blur.
Bryson was right behind him, both of them sprinting across the lawn toward the main house. Devon's lungs burned, his legs pumping, the distance that had seemed so short a moment ago now stretched impossibly long.
The back door stood open.
Devon's heart stopped. It had been locked when he left. She'd promised to stay inside, to keep everything secured.
He took the deck steps two at a time and burst through the door into the kitchen.
The kettle was on the stove. Everything looked normal, undisturbed.
Except for the open door.
"Emery?" Devon called, his voice echoing through the quiet house. "Emery!"
No answer.
Bryson moved toward the front, checking rooms. Devon raced upstairs, taking the steps three at a time, his boots thudding on hardwood.
Their bedroom door was closed. He threw it open.
Empty. The bed disheveled as if she might get back in it. He opened the closet. All her clothes were in there. Yanking open the bathroom door, he checked for her hairdryer, makeup, shampoo. All still there.
He knew with cold certainty that Emery was gone. But she hadn’t left because she’d wanted to. Someone had taken her. His heart dropped to his toes like a brick. He couldn’t suck in a deep enough breath. He loved Emery, and the thought of anything happening to her crushed his soul so completely he wasn’t sure it was something he could come back from.
