Fuck. He nearly killed himself over this.I suppose this isn't news. Asha told me she suspected it as much, but hearing it for the truth it is from his mouth hits different. It was a man enraged. It was a man crippled by fear.
"But regret and hate, they eat you alive from the inside out." His voice is rough, weighted with years of mistakes. "They almost stole my little girl from me. I pushed her away, trying to protect her, and I nearly lost her completely because of it." He straightens, his dark eyes finding mine across the counter. "I'm hoping what I've done is forgivable. That she can understand why I made the choices I did, even if she doesn't agree with them." He pauses, and the sound of rain hammering against the windows fills the silence until he adds, "But I know she'll comeback." His gaze sharpens and locks onto mine. "I know she'll come back for you."
The words land like a promise, a promise I can't feel through my fear.
Because what if he's wrong?
I stare at the man who's already lived through losing everything once. What if this time, she doesn't? What if this is the thing that finally breaks her? Not the lies. Not the secrets. Not even the disease, but all of it.
What if I've lost her?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
TRIGGER
FIVE DAYS LATER
"Why don't you call Dar? Maybe Asha reached out to her," Hollis says as I slam the clamshell into the ground as I install the last post.
I wipe sweat from my forehead before it drops in my eyes. "No passport. No cards. And her phone is on the kitchen table." Each word drops like a hammer. "She doesn't want to be found." I clench my jaw on the last word because it feels like chunks of my heart are being removed from my chest, one piece at a time, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I understand she needed time. But this? She's left me alone in this. Her words told me she loved me unconditionally, the same way I love her, but the longer she stays gone, the more I question whether they were ever really true.
"Rohan will be here in three days, when the bulls arrive. If necessary, I'll ask him then. For now, I don't want to concern them with this."
My reasons for leaving them out have nothing to do with our partnership and everything to do with protecting my wife.God, I can hear myself turning into Warrick with every other thought.
"I checked with my mom and casually asked if she had heard from Asha." He unscrews the lid of his water. "Made up a story about her wanting one of her recipes." His voice lowers to something apologetic. "She hasn't called."
"You don't have to stay. I know your dad needs you back home." I'm winded, wrestling the post into place with blistered hands. "I can handle this."
"Bullshit, you can handle it." His voice sharpens. "You're not eating or sleeping. I don't know what the hell is keeping you vertical right now—adrenaline, spite, both. Which is exactly why I'm not going anywhere." He pauses. "Look, I know you don't want to talk about what happened, but if you'd just?—"
"I can't tell you." The words come out strangled as I lean heavily on the wooden post to keep from collapsing into the dirt. "I can't."
"Okay. Okay." His hand finds my shoulder, steadying me or bracing to catch me, I'm not sure which.
"It hurts, Hollis." My voice breaks. "It hurts so fucking bad I can't—" I can't finish. Can't breathe.
"Hey, come on, let's go back to the house. You might not want to eat, but I'm starving, and Sydney said Laney dropped off a casserole."
"I need to finish—" I straighten up, but the world tilts sideways, trees and sky trading places.
"Screw this." Hollis is at my side, steadying me. He yanks the post from the ground and hurls it aside. "That's it. We're done." He drapes my arm over his shoulders, bearing most of my weight. "You want her back? You gotta stay alive long enough to be here when she comes home."
I don't know how long I've been staring at the ceiling of our loft. Every heartbeat feels like a lifetime. I don't want to be alone with my thoughts, and I can't give them to anyone. It feels like I'm trapped inside my own personal hell, made worse because there are no bars. I can leave, but I can't escape.
When I roll over, Sydney is there.
"You literally have to eat this. It's been five days, and Hollis says you haven't touched anything."
"That's not true. There was an orange peel in my old-fashioned yesterday," I say flatly.
"Doesn't fucking count," she says evenly. "Now sit up. I don't cook, and I made you an egg sandwich. You're going to eat it."
"That's a terrible sales pitch," I say, my voice void of any emotion. I don't care if I eat. Nothing matters without her.
"Don’t be an ass. I said I don't cook, not that I can't." She slaps my arm. "Now sit up."
She sits beside me, and the movement carries the smell of the sandwich to my nose. My stomach rumbles, and for the first time in days, food doesn't make me want to throw up.
