Cela leaned her elbow on the fence rail and smiled wistfully at them. After a moment, she took out her phone and cradled it in her hands. Then she took a picture of the darkening farmyard and texted it to Tyr with the caption, “Wish you were here.”
She hovered over the phone late into the night, even after she was back in the little guest house and had put the twins down for bed, but Tyr didn’t answer.
It took her three days—of sending texts that weren’t answered, of desperately yearning—to go back to Tyr’s house to find out what was going on.
Peyton drove her over after work. “I told you, it’s fine,” Cela said. “I can go on my own.”
“No way, sister. If your guy is mad at you, I don’t want you to be stuck there with no way to get back.”
Cela didn’t have any way to explain that she didn’t plan to walk; she was planning to fly. And she had no concern whatsoever about Tyr being angry at her. She was worriedforhim.
However, having Peyton along as backup, or at least around to call for help if they needed it, probably wasn’t a bad thing. Cela’s imagination had already conjured a dozen terrible options by the time they reached the house. Tyr would have texted her back if he could; she was sure of it. Maybe the clan had sent enforcers who had dragged him back to Griffin Island. Maybe he was ill. Maybe ...
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Peyton remarked as they both contemplated the house and the shut-up greenhouses.
“He wouldn’t just leave his plants,” Cela said. “He loves his plants.”
Surely, she thought, if he was home, Tyr would have noticed the two women pulling up outside. But the place really did look abandoned.
“Could he have gone home?” Peyton asked, getting out of the driver’s side. “I mean, wherever he’s from.”
“No.” Cela approached the porch steps. “Not without saying anything.”
Seized by a sudden dreadful premonition, she bounded up the steps. The door was locked, and Cela fumbled out her key with shaking hands.
“What’s wrong?” Peyton asked behind her.
Cela didn’t bother to try to explain. “Tyr!” she shouted.
She could tell immediately that no one was home. The house had the closed-up air of a place where no doors or windows had been opened in days. The note lying on the hall table was immediately obvious.
Peyton came in as Cela stood holding the note, rereading it as if the words would change if she just stared at them long enough.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Peyton asked gently. She touched Cela’s hand, and when Cela’s numb fingers opened, she took the note and frowned at it. “Griffin Island? Where is that? I’ve never heard of it.”
Cela swallowed. Her throat felt too tight to admit air. “It—it’s where we’re from. You’re right.” She swallowed again and finally seemed to get a breath, but her hands curled into fists. “He’s gone back.”
“He’s left you?” Peyton’s voice was all sympathy.
“No. It’s worse than that. He’s going to get killed.”
“Killed?” Peyton’s open, friendly face was blank with confusion. “Is he in the mafia or something?” She looked atthe note again. “I’m sorry, I don’t meant to be nosy. I just don’t understand.”
“Me neither,” Cela whispered. She looked at Tyr’s phone. There was no way she could tell what was on it without unlocking it, but the icon showed that the battery was nearly run down. It had probably been sitting here since the day she’d left.
Which meant Tyr had been gone for three days.
She was three days behind him with no way to get in touch.
With her thoughts full of Tyr, she whirled and charged out of the house, pursued by a startled Peyton.
“Where are we going?” Peyton asked. She paused long enough to reach inside and lock the doorknob. Cela hadn’t even thought of it; she had other things on her mind.
“I need to go back to Gaby’s, quickly. I have to go after him.”
By the time they reached Gaby and Derek’s farm, Cela’s panicked flood of feelings were starting to firm up into a plan. The twins were in the main house along with Gaby’s kids and babysitter. Gaby could take care of them for a few days if necessary, Cela mused as she leaped out of the car. “I’m sorry, Peyton, I appreciate the ride but I have to go now.”
But Peyton followed her to the door of the guest house. “Honey, can I help? It sounds like this is serious. What are you going to do?”
