We’re a few hours behind. Two hours wouldn't make a difference if it weren't Addison I was tracking. I know it isn't life or death, but my brain can't stop thinking of the what-ifs.
They could hurt her.
She could need something, but she's too soft-spoken to ask.
She could be terrified…
“Stop shaking your leg,” Dom bites. He’s easily agitated, and we’ve been trapped in my truck for over ten hours. We drove through the night, and I refused to stop so we could sleep. He’s already a ticking bomb, and I’m not making mattersany better.
“Sorry,” I mumble, my eyes focusing on the road.
He sighs, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “You can't keep going like this, Row. You’re running on fumes.”
“I’ll sleep when I'm fucking dead,” I laugh bitterly.
That only gets a disappointed head shake from my friend. “Let me take over. I slept for a few hours.”
No.
I have to get to her. Sheneedsme.
“You won't be worth a damn if you're exhausted,” Dom leans forward, his elbow digging into the middle console. “I’ll put this fucking truck in neutral until you stop. You’re not in this alone.”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as the words that have been on repeat in my head for the last ten hours tumble from my lips. “I can't stop. She needs me.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, she needs Rowan Kingsley, the leader of the Midwestern syndicate. Not the fucking shell of him.”
I finally break my concentration as everything comes crashing down on me. My shoulders curl forward with exhaustion, and I know he’s right.
She needs me at my best.
I flick on the blinker and turn off on the shoulder so we can switch seats. As I settle in, I take one last lingering look at the GPS. “Wake me up if anything changes.”
Dom doesn't answer as he veers us back onto the road. At first, I don't sleep. Everything is too much—the tires bumping over the asphalt, the sounds of cars passing us, the nagging in the back of my mind that we aren't goingfastenough.
I can see Addison behind my eyelids, the portrait of her sunny smile painted into the fabric of my mind like a precious gem. Living in the unknown is torture. I’ve tried texting her, but I haven’t gotten an answer.
I should be doing more.
I should be with her.
How could I let this happen?
“Go to sleep,” Dom commands.
“Bite me,” I grumble.
“I will,” he threatens.
A fitful sleep pulls me under, but it’s thinly veiled. I can still register the shifting of the truck and the distant sounds outside as we pass forested areas and cities. I filter in and out of restlessness, trying to force myself to get the slumber I desperately need, but I can't.
I’ve already grown used to having Addison’s slight curves pressed against me and her long, slender leg tossed over my hips. She’s a cuddler, and I'm missing her warmth far more than what can be considered healthy.
It doesn't feel right.
I feel hollow.
Dom’s voice slams me awake as he curses. My eyes fly open, and I'm up in my seat before he can even shift into park.
