Belle barks and presses against my legs, anchoring me to AJ like she knows I’m about to disappear again.
My breath saws roughly over my throat. “Th-the d-d-dress… The wh-white one…”
“The costume? We were Han and Leia years ago for Halloween.” He turns us just enough I can’t see it anymore, but I know it’s there. Waiting to take me again. “It can’t hurt you, darlin’. I promise.”
I twist around to bury my face in his chest. My right hand fists the front of his t-shirt. He smells like coffee and firewood and the outdoors and home, but bile still burns the back of my throat.
“I hate this,” I choke out. “I want to remember you. Not…whatever that is.”
He doesn’t try to stop my tears. Only tightens his embrace, one hand cupping my neck, the other at the small of my back, holding me here—with him and Belle.
“I’ve got you, Grace. Always.” The words—whispered against my hair—should be enough. They almost are.
Belle leans her entire body against the back of my legs, as if she’s trying to press me even closer to my husband. Her cold nose nudges my left hand. For once, my fingers do what I want and stroke the top of her head.
It takes minutes to be able to breathe again. Full, shuddering breaths that don’t scrape over my throat like sandpaper.
When I sag against AJ, my body no longer trapped in whatever fractured memory threatened to destroy me, he helps me out of the closet and over to the bed. I think he’s going to lie down with me, but instead, he snaps his fingers. “Belle, up.”
The dog hoists her big body onto the mattress and drapes herself across my lap.
“Stay,” he commands, and I almost laugh. It would take a forklift to move her.
He disappears into the closet for a brief moment, emerging with the dress balled up under his arm. Without a word, he leaves the room. A door in another part of the house opens and closes. Once. Twice.
I don’t need to know where he’s taking it. For now, it’s enough to know that it’s gone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
AJ
I didn’t want to leave her. But if I go much longer without a shower, she won’t want to get close to me. And having Grace in my arms is all that’s keeping me together.
Plus, I’m sportin’ almost a full beard, and it itches. A couple days’ stubble is all I can stand.
I lift the simple, silver chain over my head and curl my fingers around her wedding ring. She always took it off for long runs, and when I found it in her jewelry box two days after she disappeared, I “borrowed” one of her necklaces so it—she—would always be with me.
She ain’t ready for me to slide it back on her finger. Or maybe I’m the one who ain’t ready. If I try and she refuses, it might break me.
I reach for my shaving kit, then tuck the ring and chain into one of the side pockets before stepping into the shower.
The hot water cascades over me, burning away some of the stress and strain. But not the memory of Grace having a panic attack over a fucking Halloween costume.
Or the vision of another white dress behind my closed lids, this one stained with her blood.
I hid the costume in the bottom drawer of my desk, then texted Parker, Jasper, and Connor asking them one question?—
What do you know about cults?
It’s the only thing that makes sense. But if there were major cult activity in Austin, we’d have heard about it. Especially if they made a habit of kidnapping local women.
Connor said he’d set Zephyr on some internet sleuthing. Parker can only access some of the Rangers’ databases from home, but she’ll do what she can. Soon, we’re gonna have to read in Hardison. He’s so damn quiet most of the time, I don’t know him well. But Parker trusts him, and that’s enough for me.
I scrub the bar of Irish Spring over my skin. I still remember the last time Grace touched me—really touched me—the morning she disappeared.
My dick rockets to life under my hand.
Fuck.
