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Every muscle in me constricts, cold sweat racing down my spine. I get that Garrick is stressed, just like everyone at that estate is. I’m sure Teague’s uncharacteristic tardiness was a huge inconvenience, but his outright disappearance? That’s enough to raise the stress levels to highs I’m not sure I can imagine. But I have my own set of standards for stress and worry and panic. And I’m fighting those with everything I have, because Teague needs me to.
“I know. I can imagine you’re being pulled in several directions at the moment. But…but I can get us to Teague, Garrick. I can get us to him and”—I pause before spilling my darkest secret—“I know why they took him.” Silence hangs heavy between us. “Please, Garrick. Please come get me.”
Chapter 20
Ledger
TRUIE
Time, on paper, is an absolute. It doesn’t bend, doesn’t shift, it simply is. In crisis, it’s slower than tectonic plates shifting.
That’s how it feels waiting for Garrick to get to Teague’s house. That’s how it feels knowing that Teague is in trouble and I’m the one who holds the key to where he is.
Me.
Like God couldn’t have picked a more incapable person to have that kind of power. Jesus, I’m a mess.
The pull to spiral and let my toxic shit take control is nearly impossible to fight. Being docile has been my comfort, my constant companion for so fucking long, it just feels safe.
Winnie was my grounding force through that time, but I still—still—haven’t heard a peep from her. When I need her the most, she’s disappeared.
That’s something to deal with later, because if I let it eat me up, I won’t have anything left to fight my internal battles and do what needs to be done with the external ones.
I have to talk to people I haven’t had to before now, and I have to do it with efficiency. I must take control of myself, of my situation and the knowledge I have in my actual, literal hand and put it to use.
I have to find Teague, to get to him and save him. I have to saddle my weakness and be his strength. Christ, this is a mess.
A soft knock is my only warning before the lock clicks and the door opens inward. Garrick steps through, shutting the door behind him and I have to shove down the fear that hits when I’m shut into a room with a man. A man other than Teague… But this is more than just a damp, dank cinder block room, and Garrick has been nothing but kind, fatherly in all the ways mine never was.
“Miss Cochonette.” He takes off his hat and nods to me. “When you’re ready… I’ll bank the fire so we can depart.” He hasn’t moved from where he stopped just inside the front door—off to the side so he’s not blocking the exit. Both hands are visible, gently cradling his hat and completely nonthreatening. His expression is soft, relaxed with an understandable edge of urgency.
He’s waiting on me.
I’m in control.
I have the power to slow us down and cause Teague unfathomable harm, or to hand over the information I have and save the man I don’t think I can live without.
“Yes. P-please. I’ll g-go find a coat?” I step back, ready to take off for the bedroom and collect myself before having to put my safety in someone else’s hands. To breathe before I have to speak. I did okay, only two little slips, but my stutter and elevated stress are never a good combination.
Garrick raises his left arm and steps forward. “I took the liberty of bringing one of Mr. Grey’s coats for you, miss. It’s my understanding that you prefer the warmth of the wool. Perhaps the heft of it offers a bit of security.”
He extends the charcoal gray wool coat toward me but waits for me to approach him. Each action has my comfort in mind. I want to cry at the thoughtful way he deals with me.
“Thank you.” I take the coat, and Garrick goes to the fireplace, efficiently banking the few remaining embers. I don’t know if he notices the way I bury my face in the soft wool, the way I inhale the scent of Teague that clings to it, but he shows no indication that I’m weak or lacking in anyway.
When the house is closed down, I follow Garrick to the small, sporty roadster that seems wildly out of character for him.
“Mr. Grey and I felt that, should such a need arise, the large utility vehicle might cause you unnecessary stress.” When I merely nod, he continues with a small smile, his eyes sparkling, “Plus, the roadster is a bit of an indulgence to drive. Shall we?”
He helps me into the low-slung car, jogging around the front to take his place behind the wheel. “If at any point, you’re uncomfortable, please speak freely. I don’t get the opportunity to drive her often and tend to let her run as she sees fit.” His excitement for the fast car is evident.
“We’re kind of in a hurry, so…”
The engine roars to life, hinting at the power beneath the hood.
“Time is indeed of the essence.”
The trip to the estate passes in a blur, thrill and trepidation fighting for centerstage in my mind. Thrill edges forward, allowing me to prepare for the tornado that’s about to hit.
