Page 78 of The Broken Keys

I accelerate, trying to catch up. She weaves through traffic until she’s on the Pacific Coast Highway. I’m trapped a few car lengths behind.

It’s hard to get close to her because her driving is erratic. She’s weaving slightly between lanes like she’s distracted or upset.

My stomach tightens. Something’s wrong.

I try to close the distance, but the traffic thickens as we approach the coast. A light ahead turns yellow, and she guns it through. I hit the red and slam my fist against the steering wheel.

“Dammit!” I sit with my engine idling as her taillights disappear into the flow of cars.

My hands are sweating with thoughts of her driving when she’s obviously dealing with something that’s causing her tobehave like she is. I wipe them on my jeans and reach for her phone.

Maybe I can call my number and tell her we switched phones so she’ll pull over. But as I pick it up and the screen comes into view, a message slides across the top.

My King:I’m leaving early if you want to meet up now.

My blood turns to ice. The message disappears before I can read more, but I saw enough.

My King.Who the fuck is he? My breathing speeds up.

And now she’s racing toward Malibu, driving like her life depends on getting there. She’s gotta be meeting up with whoever this is.

Where would she be going?

The Malibu beach house. She’s on her way to that mansion she claims she owns, but I know she doesn’t. Bren even told me there was no way she could afford two homes.

The pieces snap together with brutal clarity. This is why she’s been distant. This is why she had a panic attack. Not because of me, not because of last night at the club.

Because of him. Whoever the fuck “My King” is, he must be back from his travels.

The light turns green. I press the gas, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth could crack.

I should turn around and go to the studio. I should let her have her secrets and make her choices. That’s what my therapist would tell me to do. That’s what the sober, rational version of me knows is right.

But the part of me that’s still impulsive when it comes to her, the part that can’t let go, makes a different choice. I’m going to Malibu.

I’m gonna find out who this man is. I’m gonna get the truth she won’t give me.

Traffic opens, and I speed up, passing slower cars. I spot her about eight vehicles ahead. She’s still driving too fast and weaving. My heart hammers against my ribs.

Easy, Cash. Don’t do anything stupid.

But stupid is all I have right now. And I admit I’m desperate.

Now that I know she’s meeting up with herking,I’m fucking tired of being in the dark about what she really wants and whether I ever had a chance at all.

Off to the side, the ocean stretches endlessly. The sun hangs lower now, painting everything gold and amber. Beautiful but wrong. Like the world doesn’t understand that everything is about to go under.

I won’t lose her to this guy. I close the distance between us, staying a few cars back. She doesn’t seem to notice.

She isn’t checking her mirrors. Just keeps driving, focused on whatever’s waiting for her at the end of this journey.

My phone…her phone sits in the cupholder. I wanna look at it again and see if there are more messages and clues about who “My King” is and what he means to her. But I force myself to keep my eyes on the road.

On her.

We pass through Malibu Canyon, winding roads that hug the coastline. She takes a turn too fast and my breath catches, but she corrects and gets back into her lane. Barely.

“Lily, slow down for fuck’s sake.”