Then, something caught my eye.
A book—poking out from beneath the bed.
I crouched down, grabbed it, and turned it over in my hands.
Dirty Little Secrets.
My brow furrowed as I flipped it open?—
And immediately regretted it.
My face heated as my gaze landed on images of naked couples entangled in a variety of imaginative positions.
Reverse Cowgirl.
Couch Grind.
G-Whiz.
My pulse spiked with agitation, embarrassment, and—God forbid—something else entirely.
I slammed the book shut and pitched it back under the bed as if it had personally offended me.
I had barely recovered my composure when I met Lee in the front room.
“My search yielded nothing,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.
Lee exhaled, hands on his hips. “Same here. No trace of Tristan. He took everything he could and vanished.”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “So, what now?”
Lee snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. The last time I saw Olivia, she was at a festival in Fremont.”
A shadow crossed his face.
“She was worried,” he admitted. “And I… didn’t pay much attention. I was too caught up in my affairs.”
His gaze dropped to the floor.
“I wish I had given her my full attention. Maybe then, she wouldn’t be where she is now.”
A heavy pause.
“But then again…” He glanced at me with a small, knowing smile. “She might never have met you either.”
I wanted to know whether to thank him or curse time for its cruel designs.
Lee sighed, shaking off his thoughts. “Anyway—let’s head there. Let’s follow the trail.”
Without hesitation, we strode back to the Jeep and zipped onto the road again, racing toward the next clue.
We crossed a wide bridge, entering a small township that hummed with energy. The streets bustled with people dressed in strange, mismatched attire, cafés spilled onto sidewalks, and murals painted in wild colors stretched across brick walls.
Lee gestured around us. “This is Fremont. It’s a cute little hipster city.”
I frowned. “Hipster?”
Lee scratched his head. “Just a phrase. Kind of like fribble, popinjay, dandy… or fop.”
