Joel
I was still pissed when I got home hours later after driving all the fuck over River’s Bend, trying to clear my head.
Trying to decide.
Something I already knew in my heart.
I wanted my Rosie more than I wanted anything else.
Even kids.
But I was still pissed.
Because she hadn’t told me.
Because I hadn’t thought to ask.
Because—fuck—why did we struggle so damned much with communication?
I sighed, dropped my head to the steering wheel for one long second.
Then exhaled, lifted it, and hit the button to open the garage. The metal door slowly slid open, revealing…an empty garage.
She’d left.
Again.
Hence, the still pissed.
I don’t know why I bothered, but I pulled into the garage, parked and killed the engine, then walked into the house, checking the kitchen for signs of my woman and finding nothing. No scent of coffee in the air. No warm toaster on the counter. Nothing in the bedroom either, though the covers had been tossed back, and her phone was plugged into the charger. The sheets and pillows were cold to the touch though.
Long gone.
I snagged her cell, shoved it into my pocket.
Then I moved into her office, saw that her planner was gone, her bag of pencils and washi and stickers and shit as well.
A bit of that pissed faded away.
Because I knew where she’d gone, and what she’d planned to do there.
Our spot. Our hill overlooking the valley below.
To think.
I walked back out to the garage, to my car, and drove to our place…
Only, as I crested the hill, I already saw that the spots along the side of the road were all unoccupied.
Not one sign of my Rosie’s car.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, navigating a three-point turn and making my way back down the hill.
Coffee and apple turnovers then. Because the kitchen had been empty and unused, and she’d need food, need caffeine.
The drive didn’t take long, and then I was parking behind the coffee shop on Main Street. A quick glance through the lot didn’t show any sign of Rosie’s car here either, but she could have done what she usually did—park at the Civic Center, drop her things at her office, and then walk over.
So, I went inside.
And was fucking immediately disappointed.
Because there wasn’t a fucking blonde curl in sight.
That pissed came back because…
Same shit. It was the same fucking shit.
“Joel!”
I’d been intending on walking right the fuck back out, but hearing my name had me turning back, had me spotting—
Ugh. Fucking Christ.
I knew that wasn’t a fair feeling when I spotted Phoebe, the woman who’d been in charge of the audit that had led to Rosie’s arrest and subsequent name-clearing.
But…this woman had been part of something that had put my woman through the shit.
Even if she was just doing her job.
Even if she’d spent time helping with Rosie’s defense after things about Rosie’s dad came to light.
“Phoebe,” I said as she came over, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. “You’re good?”
“I’m good,” she said, holding up a to-go cup of coffee up in salute. “Especially now.”
I chuckled, and, itching to march the fuck over to the Civic Center and find my woman, I couldn’t summon anything more than that.
She clicked her tongue, clearly picking up on my tension. “You good?”
I nodded.
Another beat. Then she was looking me over, softly saying, “Right.” A breath. “I was just hoping to see Billie before I went back home.”
My brows flicked up. “You’re leaving?”
A half smile. “The audit is over. We haven’t found any wrongdoing in the mayor’s office. We turned over the evidence on Billie’s dad and a few lower-level employees but”—a shrug—“I’ve spreadsheeted all I can stand to spreadsheet, turned in all the request reports. So, now I need to go home and see if my business can survive a board member”—Rosie’s dad—“committing fraud and money laundering.” She shrugged again, added quietly, “And to see if I still have a boyfriend.”
Her expression was so forlorn I knew I was being an asshole.
I squeezed her arm. “Do you want me to have Rosie call you?”
Half a smile. “That’d be nice, considering we finally mended fences.”
“No more glitter glue in her hair and I think you guys might become good friends.”
Now she smiled fully, before reaching into her purse and pulling out a business card. “This has my personal cell on it. Tell her I promise to holster my glitter glue, and I’ll keep her in apple turnovers.” She passed over a bag. “Starting with this one.”
“I’ll tell her,” I promised.
And then I made my escape.
Walking over to the Civic Center, up the stairs to the floor that had her office.
But the door was closed.
I knocked, tried the handle.
It was locked.
The bag with the turnover crinkled in my grip, and I sighed.
Debated what the fuck to do.
I had practice in an hour, needed to eat and shower and get focused for that. And…I had no fucking clue where my woman might be. River’s Bend wasn’t that big, but when she wanted to disappear, she could.
Unless she’d headed home and I’d missed her.
It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.
And it wasn’t like she had her phone and she could call me.
I backed away from her office, down the stairs, out through the lobby, and over to my car behind the parking lot.
That bag with the apple turnover clutched the entire way.
I set it on the passenger’s seat, promised myself that I would give it to her when I got home.
But when I pulled into the driveway, the garage was still empty.
And it stayed that way until I left for practice.