Uh-oh. Tara rose, set her tea on the counter, and stood in the open bedroom doorway to remind him she was there if he needed emotional support.
“Of course.” He rubbed his forehead. “If I drive down, I can be there byearly afternoon tomorrow at the latest.” His head lifted and he met Tara’s gaze, his face pale, eyes tight. When he registered her presence, his lips pressed into a thin line and he turned away.
She fled to the loft with her quickly cooling tea. Of course he didn’t want her there. He probably thought she was being nosy.
But he was clearly suffering right now. It would be petty for her to behurt by his response. He had kept her safe, and he was here with her despite whatever other shit was going on in his life.
There was nothing else to their relationship.Sure, and I’m a six-foot tall Swedish man named Björn.
“Okay.” Jeff’s deep voice carried across the motor home. “I’ll be there. I don’t care what time it is, call me as soon as you know something.”
The uneasy quiet that followedwas broken by a loud crash from the bedroom. “Fuuuuck.”
Tara jolted at the sound, sloshing tea onto the colorful afghan. It took everything in her to stay put.
Something pounded the wall several times, then silence.
Her pulse tapped painfully against her throat.
Outside, the branches of a tree creaked in the wind.
Tara shivered. What she wouldn’t give to be at home in her own bed, listeningto the noise and traffic from the street far below. If she knew black magic, she’d curse whoever had driven her into hiding.
Jeff finally appeared in the doorway, his short hair sticking straight up, his cheeks in high color, arms loose at his sides.
She watched him until his gaze met hers. Her heart twisted at the agony in his golden brown eyes.
The breath shuddered out of him and he droppedonto the small sofa with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. For a minute the only sounds were their breathing and the aging heater doing its best to chase away the cold.
Tara set her mug on a small shelf in the wall and laid her hands in her lap.
Jeff’s strong back bowed, his shoulders collapsed, and he hung his head. “Evan’s mom is dead and he’s still missing.”
“Oh, God.” Hislittle boy had to be okay. She couldn’t let herself imagine the alternative. She understood all too well the pain of loss, but the grief and fear of not knowing… Especially for your own child. She could only imagine. Hopping to the floor, she sat next to Jeff on the loveseat. “I’m sorry.”
Not giving herself the time to question it, she wrapped an arm across his broad back and pressed herselfto his side. Even tough guys needed comfort.
He didn’t stiffen or move away.
“Do you know what happened to her?”
“It looks like an overdose, possibly suicide.” A deep sigh shuddered from his lungs. “I had no idea she was on drugs or I would have fought for full custody. According to my PI, the guy Bridget lived with—Roy—told one of the neighbors he was worried about her getting high aroundEvan and planned to take him somewhere safe until Bridget got her shit together. The next night they had a big fight that half the apartment complex overhead, and Roy stormed off with Evan. No one knows where he went. When Bridget didn’t show up for work two days in a row, someone called the cops for a welfare check.”
“Damn.” Tara gently massaged Jeff’s shoulder.
“I was so pissed at Bridgetfor taking Evan and disappearing—in fact, I hated her for it—but I never wished her dead. I just wanted to know where they were so I could see him again, know that he was safe and healthy.”
That explained the PI.
His hands clenched into fists. Tara covered one with her free hand and he twitched. “Now…shit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “At least we’re fairly sure Evan’s with Roy. That’ssomething, right?”
“Absolutely,” she said, not sure if she managed to reassured him. “It sounds like Roy is trying to protect Evan.” Roy was still keeping the kid from his father, but at least the boy probably wasn’t in any physical danger.
Jeff gave a tight nod. He didn’t shed a tear, but Tara felt several slide down her own cheeks. She gently stroked his back, careful to avoid his stitches.And the gun tucked into a holster at his waist.
“Are you going to fly down there in the morning?” Or, technically,laterin the morning, since it was already after two a.m.
“If Olivia has found him, then definitely. If not, I’m going to drive. Evan likes the camper. He’s comfortable here. I’d rather have a familiar place for him to stay than some strange hotel.”
