Counting on this experience to exhaust us, I appreciated that she at least had gotten a solid night of sleep. Her headaches came and went, mostly from tension, I bet. I wasn’t a doctor, but it seemed that with how often I noticed her clenching and grinding her teeth at night, she was giving herself tension headaches from that strain.
Stress couldn’t be good for an expectant mother. It only pushed me that much more to bring her home and be able to provide for her, to remove any stressors that I could.
I shifted, seeking her out in the bed. It was strange that she wasn’t rolling over to me and looking for my body heat. As a light sleeper, she almost always stirred first after a solid night of slumber.
But she wasn’t.
I moved my arm, roving my hand over the bed.
And found nothing.
She wasn’t there.
Alarm had me opening my eyes quickly. She wasn’t in the bed. Blinking quickly to erase the sleep from my eyes, I leaned up and studied the rumpled sheets and blanket. Her pillows were right where I expected them, in a messy heap, but she wasn’t hidden among them.
“Sadie?” I sat up more, worried that she wasn’t with me.
I rubbed my face, dragging my hand over my jaw as I swung my legs over the side of the bed to get up and find her.
I hated the possibility that she might be sick, in the bathroom on her own to handle any episode of belated morning sickness. She had seemed lucky so far, not often nauseated from the pregnancy, but I bet fluke moments of uneasiness would still get her down.
“Sadie?” I left the bedroom, walking down the hall and then toward the bathroom. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it served us well. Once I got her to my father’s house and we endured the beginning of the interrogation, I’d treat her to luxury in my room and bathroom there in the mansion.
“Sadie?”
Nothing.
She didn’t reply. No noise came from the bathroom as I approached. The water wasn’t running from the shower, sink, or toilet. Sounds of puking or gasping didn’t greet me.
“Sadie?” I pushed open the door that wasn’t fully closed. The motion sensor kicked on the light, revealing an empty room.
What the hell?
I backed up, trying not to panic that I couldn’t find her where I expected her. She wasn’t in bed, she wasn’t in the bathroom, but that was only the start of searching. This apartment wasn’tthatbig.
I didn’t call out for her as I looked. Retreating to the bedroom to grab my gun, I checked every inch of the apartment. The kitchen, the lounge. The other bedroom that didn’t even have any furniture.
She wasn’t here.
Anxiety laced through me. Tension kept my movements stiff and jerky.
I searched the entire unit again, rejecting the idea that she could be gone. We’djustfound each other again. She’d just come back into my life, and I wanted to stick with denial and refuse to believe that she was already gone.
Or at all.
She wouldn’t have run.
The thought snuck into my mind as I tried to rationalize what happened, but I scratched that. She would not have run off.
But what if?—
I gritted my teeth, denying it.
If she wasn’t committed to sticking with me and going to see my father and being with me, she would’ve had the motivation to run. She had to be nervous about seeing my father, her former enemy and target.
But she couldn’t have run.
She wouldn’t be a liar and dupe me like that. When I told her my father wanted to see her and that I had to bring her in, she hadn’t cried or freaked out. She’d listened with acceptance, like she already expected it.
