I examined each bedroom until I found the one I was looking for—Grayson’s. I needed the proof I so craved, and this would probably be my last opportunity.
The room was neat, the bed perfectly made as always. I wondered if his bed felt as cold as mine did every night. Did it even bother him to sleep alone again after so many nights of holding me? Probably not.
Maybe he already had someone else warming his bed.
The thought stabbed through me, and I had to turn away from the bed. No. I would surely fall dead if that was true. My heart would stop beating, and I would just drop down in the middle of the street, ceasing to exist. The doctors would call it a medical anomaly, not understanding how it happened.
I opened the closet door, the scent of Grayson engulfing my senses, my knees buckling under the weight of the longing I refused to acknowledge.
All his clothes were still there. His favourite white t-shirt caught my eye. I picked it up and pressed it to my face, inhaling deeply, breathing in the scent ofhome.
Gods, I was pathetic.
Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to put the shirt back. I fastened it inside the waistband of my pants, dropping my jacket over it to hide it. I was breaking all kinds of laws, but I couldn’t leave it behind. I couldn’t let the police rip the fragile fabric to shreds during their investigation. And I couldn't admit to myself why the hell I cared.
I rummaged through the rest of the room, trying to find what I came looking for—any evidence that he once loved me. That he still thought of me or dreamt of me. That he still felt something for the woman he swore he would never leave. But the only evidence that I was ever in his life was the wood carving of the honey badger he’d made for me, discarded in the back of the top drawer of his nightstand.
“Keep it,” Owen said from the door. “We have enough evidence to put them away for a long time.” His eyes darted between mine and the little carving in my hand, seeing way too much. “But don’t snitch on me if they catch you. Then you’re on your own.”
I smiled, the movement letting a tear fall that I’d been desperately trying to keep inside. “Yes, sir,” I tried to joke, pocketing the honey badger.
He took another step into the room, looking at anything but me, giving me the time to compose myself. “This is an old cartel house. We found tunnels everywhere. One leading to the barn. That’s how they got to the helicopter. Clever bastards.” Owen looked at me, gauging my reaction.
I only nodded. But the silence became uncomfortable. Owen clearly had something on his mind. “Just…” I sighed, “say it.”
He turned his full attention to me, clearing his throat. “Your reaction when they took Gemma down, and when they shot at the truck we thought Grayson was in and finding you here. It’s…” He lowered his head, trying to find the right words.
“It’s what?” I prompted after a moment of too long silence.
His eyes settled on me again, filled with that pity I hated so much. “It’s understandable,” he paused, sighing out a breath, “but it’s a conflict of interest. You still feel too much for them. I’m afraid it’ll get in the way—”
“It won’t,” I interrupted immediately.
“Ava, if—”
“Itwon’t,” I insisted.
Owen shook his head, hard determination settling over his features. “You know as well as I do that the first chance he gives you, you’ll runrightback into his arms.”
His words were like a slap to the face. It reverberated through my body, leaving a burning in its wake that I couldn’t escape. He took a step towards me, regret already forming in his features,but it was too late. It was already said, hanging in the air between us, making the air thick and hard to breathe.
Because he was fucking right.
“I need some air,” I choked and toppled past him.
I made my way out of the house, down the porch and down the driveway. I abruptly changed course as I felt the eyes of the police officers on me, having nothing better to do than watch the pathetic, stupid woman stumble down the road, losing her mind. I made my way into the field behind the house, falling to my knees in the tall grass.
What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I clinging to the hope that he still wanted me? That they would come back for me? They had moved on with their lives and forgot all about me. They clearly weren’t missing me with the bone-crushing intensity that I missed them.
And it was pathetic.
Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
It needed to end. I needed to find a way to move on. Starting with getting off my fucking knees and getting out of the field.
I wandered to the barn, the roof still open in a peculiar way. I nodded to the police officer guarding the door as I walked inside with determined steps, like I had the authority to be there. I had no idea if I did.
The inside looked nothing like the outside. The outside of the barn looked like it was one strong gust away from falling apart. A complete lie because the inside was clean, neat and entirely sturdy.
