I didn’t know Trinity yet, but the same instincts that told me to run out the door and track her down told me that if we left this alone until it could occur naturally, she would bedevastated. And I already knew that despite this complication, none of us could simply walk away.
“I think we do try to reach out to her,” Logan said slowly, “but I’m not sure that going through Cecil is the way to do it. On the one hand, it’s the fastest, but might raise questions with Cecil and Mom. On the other hand, going through Cade might reinforce the idea that we don’t care about the connection. Maybe we reach out to her at the magazine?” Then he winced. “Or maybe not. That feels a little stalkery.”
Trinity had a unique name, and it had taken one internet search to findTrinity Rose Crawfordthat worked at Clarity Magazine. Her headshot as one of the managing editors showed it was her. We hadn’t delved deep—we wanted to learn about her fromher—but we were all relieved to know who she was. And that she lived down here in Clarity Coast, not Sunset City.
“Let’s ask Cecil,” Brooks said.
My legs started moving, and I paced along the windows that overlooked most of Clarity. Our large apartment in the small downtown area was a little inland, but it had a hell of a view of both the sprawling city and the ocean beyond.
“How long do we wait? I don’t want her to think we’re hesitating because of it. If she’s skittish, she needs to know.”
Brooks tilted his head and looked at me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you like this.”
“And I have a hard time understanding how all of you are so fucking calm,” I snapped.
“I’m not,” Bastian said. “I broke a bag earlier.”
“A punching bag?”
He nodded once.
Damn.
The bags were heavy as shit.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“Let’s wait through tomorrow,” Logan said. “Give her a day to recover from the weekend. And if we don’t hear from her tomorrow…”
The next day.
I took a slow, shaky breath. “Okay.” The overwhelming need to findher had to be purged, or I wouldn’t make it through tomorrow. “Going to the pool.”
“Don’t drown,” Logan called after me.
My thrown up middle finger made laughter follow me out the door and to the elevator all the way down to the basement. We had lockers down here with the things we might need.
The scent of chlorine settled my mind a bit. It wasn’t the scent I wanted, but at least it was familiar. Water parted around my body, accepting me the way it always had. It didn’t stop the flashes of seeing Trinity—her coming on Logan’s tongue, looking up at us with shock at Cecil’s house, getting out of the pool in that fucking bathing suit.
I would swim until I couldn’t swim anymore, and hope that she texted so I wouldn’t have to do it again tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWELVE
_____________
TRINITY
Holy shit.
The email I stared at in my inbox was one I never expected to see.
I spent the rest of Sunday doing as much digging as I could into Tracy’s case. There was… a lot. And the sticky note with a hastily scribbled email address seemed to be the key. Too antsy to wait until today, I’d taken the chance and emailed, explained who I was.
Then, this morning.
Tonight. East Ray Beach, near the dock. 7 PM.
Don’t use this email again.
