Now we’re here, in a shitty motel. She’s still giving me her back—which is fine, because she’s trapped in my arms, and her hips are pressed against mine like the perfect little spoon. She still hasn’t said another word—not even when I stepped into the shower with her—but I’ve decided that she has another twelve hours before I go down the extreme route.
“Bella,” I say into her hair.
Silence.
Fucking hell.
“You better start talking real soon, or else you might regret it.”
Nothing.
“This is me giving you space. If you think I can’t get any worse, you have a whole other thing coming for you, baby girl.”
Zip.
Nada.
I sigh and pull her tighter to my chest. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Isabella.”
Soft light filters through the curtains, illuminating dust motes specked through the air. The stale air is aggravating my nostrils, but the faintest scent of something sweet is settling my nerves.
Jesus Christ, what time is it? I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Based on how bright it is, it’s too early for me to be a functioning human. So, like, eight or nine o’clock in the morning, maybe.
I groan as I stretch my arms, reaching behind me to pull Bella into my chest. Instead of warm skin, my hands touch the flat cotton surface of theveryempty bed.
My heart lodges into my throat as I snap upright. “Bella?”
I don’t wait for a response before throwing open the bathroom door.
Empty.
“Bella!” I yell, running to the front door and onto the walkway of the motel. The parking lot is empty; besides an old man, I can’t see anyone else.
Rushing back inside, I finally notice her shoes and coat are missing. So is Mr. Mouse. She’s on the run—she ran from me, just like I was scared of.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I spot her phone on the bedside table and our IDs exactly where I left them last night. My wallet is open on top of my jacket, but it’s still brimming with cash like she opened it and changed her mind, or only took a few bucks so I wouldn’t notice.
Throwing on a random pair of pants and shoes, I shove all our shit into the car and fire up the engine. I barely look back as I reverse out of the park and head onto the main street. The frost covering the windows slowly melts away from the blaring heaters.
My heart hammers erratically against my ribs as I speed down different roads. It’s a small rural town with two motels and a single grocery store. I park and check each and every building she might be in; she couldn’t have gotten far.
Unless she left earlier this morning and caught a bus.
I press my foot on the gas and fiddle with my phone to locate the station—any fucking station, bus, train, radio—I don’t care, as long as I find her.
I barely pay attention to the actual road, speeding along and heading to where my phone tells me to go. The tires screech to a stop in front of a brownstone building with only two bus stops in front of it. Bella isn’t in front of either one of them.
Running inside, I stop in front of a graying lady who looks like she’s never stepped out of the building in her life. She peers up over her glasses at me as I approach the counter.
“Tell me what buses left this morning.”
She scowls and opens her mouth like she’s about to protest.
“Tell me!” I roar.
