I felt around again, you know, just to be really sure, and yeah, not there.
Flopping onto my back, I sighed up to the dark ceiling and lifted my head, thinking he was in the bathroom, but it was dark.
I stumbled toward the bathroom. “Kieran?”
Silence was my only reply.
The white marble and cabinets contrasted against the dark as I went to the water closet to peek in. He wasn’t there, but seeing the toilet made me realize my bladder was about to burst (stupid IV), so I took a minute to relieve myself.
Back in the bedroom, the trepidation I’d felt in my sleep returned as I gazed at the large empty mattress. Shivering as the sweat on my skin dried, I left the bedroom to walk across the plush rug stretching down the hall and into the main living space.
Out here was just as empty as the bed, and my bare feet stopped, the wooden floor beneath them cold.
“Kieran,” I called.
When he didn’t answer, I went past the empty living room, past the island, and into the kitchen. It was spotless and dark. The only light came from the city view from the window over the sink.
Atlas and Cliff were still exactly where I’d put them, and I went over to gently finger their foliage. “Hey, guys,” I started. “You’re looking a little better. I know it’s dark, but I can tell. Sorry I didn’t find you a new home yesterday, but I will as soon as the sun comes up.”
After checking to make sure their soil wasn’t too dry, I wandered through the living room and into Kieran’s office. It was spacious with an entire wall of bookcases in the same color as the floor. The shelves were neat, the many books arranged by size. Intrigued, I went closer to look at what else he had on display.
Even though there was a large city view in here as well, it wasn’t bright enough, so I clicked on a small lamp on the cornerof his massive desk. The room filled with a warm glow, and I was overwhelmed with a wave of homesickness. Wrinkling my nose, I tried to push it away and walked to the shelves, which were much easier to see.
I ran my finger along the smooth, dust-free wood, taking in the wide range of books. There were several copies ofThe Art of War, a book I wasn’t familiar with, but clearly, Kieran liked it. There were history, medical, and psychology texts and even a few mystery novels.
A globe with gold trim sat on one of the shelves along with some carved statues made of wood. There was a stand with a dagger on display and an hourglass filled with red sand.
The homesick sensation reasserted itself, making my stomach tighten. Breathing deep, I realized the room smelled just like him, the scent familiar as I’d fallen asleep with it wrapped around me.
On the corner of his massive desk was a bonsai but no trace of paperwork or even a laptop. Such a neat freak.
Realization dawned. This room was the most “Kieran” in the entire condo. He might not be physically in here, but his presence was. He lingered in every book and collectible on the shelf. I knew without him even saying that every piece was chosen for this room by him because all of it meant something. The living room and kitchen almost seemed unlived in, and though this room was just as orderly as the rest, this was where he spent most of his time.
I was homesick because of him.Forhim.
Where is he?
Across the room was a large leather chair with a small table beside it and a fireplace built into the wall. A clock on the mantel drew me closer, and I noted it was after three a.m.
Why would he just leave and not say anything? What the hell does someone do at three in the morning?
Those thoughts sent me back into the bedroom where I looked on both nightstands for a note. Then I checked the pillow.
Nothing.
There was no note on the fridge or the island.
I checked the entire apartment. Kieran was not there.
I couldn’t even call him because I still didn’t have his phone number.
So stupid, Haz. You had sex with him. More than once. You’re in his house and don’t even know how to call him.
He told me I couldn’t leave, practically frothed at the mouth at the very idea. But what did he do? Leave. Hypocritical ass.
I thought briefly of Ghost, but I didn’t have his number either. I did have a card with Dr. Hershberg’s number. I raced to the bedroom for the card, tripping on the corner of the runner in the hall and pitching forward. Flinging my arms out, I caught myself on the wall, falling into it with a slap. Grunting, I pushed back, but the panel beneath my palm slid in.
Puzzled, I stared at the sunken block of wood and then pulled my hand away. The panel popped out, this time slightly farther than everything else.
