She’s a good woman, who doesn’t need my fucking burdens.
Then again, I’ve kept Molly out of the loop for years. I mull the thought over as I grab my truck keys from the hook by the door. As I do, I spot a black computer bag that doesn’t belong to me.
Jenna’s. It’s Jenna’s.My mind replays the couple of times I’ve seen it slung over her shoulder. I reach for it without thinking, and unzip the main pocket, just to make sure. My eyes catch sight of a stack of papers, tucked in front of the laptop.
And I can’t fucking resist.
I pull them out, expecting to see boring literature work.
Instead, I’m met with a photo of my own goddamn face, alotof notes on Cade, and a big fat NCIS logo.
What the ever-loving fuck.
I flip through the papers, my brain flips through all our conversations, and I realize Dr. Williams…is a fucking liar.
And all my control? It goes right out the goddamn window.
Chapter 30
Jenna
Impossible.
I slam the brakes of my car, as I pass the tree farm, a figure of a man standing near the main office.
Calvin and Turner are the house.
Which means this shadow of a figure might be my brother.
I whip into the farm entrance, shocked to the see the gate open. But I don’t stop. I keep driving, and the man standing on the deck of the main office grows more and more familiar as I pull up.
I reach into my console and pull out my taser, just in case, as I come to a stop in the gravel lot. The manstilldoesn’t move. Not as I inch the car door open, and not as I close it.
“Cade?” I croak his name out, and the man freezes.
And then takes off at a sprint.
Fuck, are you serious?
I take off after him, and the air snaps my lungs open. I pull up the hood on my jacket, and rush after him. The ground is a carpet of pine needles, soft, but the frost underneath is slick and treacherous. My boots crunch, but I keep the steps quick and light. I’m sweating and freezing at the same time.
“Cade, wait!” I scream the words after him, but he keeps darting ahead.
He’s a dozen rows of trees in front of me, but I keep pushing, desperation humming through my body. Every time I think I’ve lost him, there’s another blur of motion, another brush of branches. I move faster, push harder. My pulse is a metronome in my ears. The taste of blood creeps up the back of my throat, and I think about what it’s going to mean if I catch up.
If I actually see him. If we couldjusttalk.
The tree farm isn’t really a farm; it’s a horror show in daylight. I cut through an alley of mature spruces, low enough that I have to duck, and nearly run into a roll of barbed wire. I see him once more now, twenty yards ahead. Man-sized, hunched, and wrong in the way he’s moving.
He makes for a hard rush to an office building, slamming the door behind him. I stay low, make it to the edge of the lot, and wait.
I risk a breath, then another. I check the Taser, ready in my palm. Then I move. I creep up the porch, and place my hand on the doorknob, my heart pounding in the side of my head.
Why did he not stop? What’s wrong with him?
I push the door inward, and freeze.
Cade is there, leaning against the wall with the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His voice is raspy, and I hate how much I recognize this version of my brother.
