“Elena made those F1 race car cupcakes for a birthday party. One batch went wrong. She gave them out for free the day this picture was taken.”
“I remember. I texted you and asked if Roman wanted one.”
“I pulled the footage from that day,” Brax continues. “Laurel was there. Bertie served her. He told me she was looking for a quiet rental for a short period of time. He offered his lakehouse cabin. She paid cash.”
“So she’s been in Huxley Bay before Clarissa Rose turned up, and we didn’t know?” I ask.
“Seems that way.” Brax scrolls through his phone and hands it over. A wall stares back at us. Pictures, scribbles, and Post-it notes are on it. Strings crisscross the wall like veins, firing out of a photo in the dead center—one of Erin.
“This took weeks,” Brax says, shaking his head. “Maybe months. She’s built her own investigation using some of my evidence.”
Erin frowns. “Your evidence?”
“My security is airtight,” he says, clearly frustrated with himself. “I don’t know how she got in, but only I had access to some of the stuff I saw on her wall.”
“Do you know where she is now?” Erin asks.
Brax shakes his head.
“You have to find her, Brax,” Erin says, the steadiness in her voice morphing into fear. “She’s the only one who can tell us why she and Elliot had drugs that belonged to The Octopus.”
“I’ll find her,” Brax promises.
And just like that, the kitchen, pancakes, my hands on her thighs, and her legs around me feels worlds away.
Her piercing screamrips through my sleep.
I bolt upright, eyes fighting the dark as I flick on the light by my bed. Erin lies flat on her back beside me, sobs pouring out of her. She trembles so hard the bed shakes.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re okay,” I whisper, stroking her cheek. The second my fingers touch her skin, her eyes fly open.
She leaps out of bed and scrambles away from me, as if she has no idea who I am. She presses herself into a corner, her body small and terrified, akin to an endangered animal that’s never seen a human before. Her pupils are blown wide, swallowing the color of her eyes.
“It was just a nightmare, baby. You’re safe.” I climb out of bed and walk over to her, but she doesn’t see me. Instead, she’s looking through me, unblinking and terrified.
“Please,” she cries, voice trembling. “Don’t hurt me.”
An ache splits through me.
I walk closer, my steps slow and careful. She shrinks back farther, lost in a place inside her mind I can’t see.
I cup her cheeks between my palms when I reach her, hoping she can hear me.
“Erin, I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. She’s gone, trapped in the nightmare she can’t climb out of. I’d take every bad dream from her if I could.
“Sweetheart, feel my hands. Just my hands. You’re here with me.”
I kiss her.
It’s sure and anchoring.
Her lips quiver beneath mine, but she doesn’t pull away. I kiss her again, and finally, her body eases. The shakiness stops.
“Come back to me, baby,” I murmur against her mouth.
“Chase?” she croaks, a light flicking back on behind her eyes.
