My slippers scuffed against the worn wooden floor in a rhythmic motion as I paced back and forth. I’d checked and rechecked the locks on the windows, as well as the front and back doors. My stomach had tied itself into a million different knots—those elaborate sailor kinds.
I pulled out my phone and opened Adam’s favorite social media app. His photos were always accompanied by captions that would’ve been beautiful if they were authentic in the slightest way. But they never were.
This time, I wasn’t trying to find any glimmers of truth in his posts. I was looking for clues as to where he might be. I scanned the new updates. A quote from someone his charity had helped. A photo from a site as they worked. Another snapshot of him and me.
It was another old one. The time he’d surprised me with a trip to a drive-in movie because I’d always wanted to go. My smile was wide, eyes bright as I held a massive bucket of popcorn. I looked…happy. And I had been. Sometimes, it made me feel crazy, wondering how the tables had turned. Somehow, it had happened both slowly and in a blink of an eye.
I scrolled down to a more recent photo of the two of us. There was no life in my eyes in this picture. They appeared dull, and not even the best makeup could have hidden the dark circles underneath. The juxtaposition made my heart squeeze.
The sound of tires on gravel had my head snapping up. I hurried over to the window, peeking around the curtain. The pressure on my chest eased a fraction when I saw the police emblem on the side of Nash’s SUV. But it didn’t abate altogether. Because I knew I had to tell Nash what had been waiting on my car.
My stomach formed one of those intricate knots yet again, a million thoughts and worries running through my head. Would Nash lose it? Or worse, would he think I was crazy? It was a flower, not a death threat. For all I knew, it was just someone pulling a random act of kindness and leaving blooms on people’s cars.
But my gut called me a liar.
The key I’d made Nash slid into the lock, and the doorknob turned. I sucked in a breath, bracing for the conversation to come. Then, my jaw dropped.
Nash stood there, his arm in a sling, a scowl on his lips and blond hair in haphazard disarray.
“What happened?” I asked, hurrying over to him.
He grunted but didn’t say a word.
I arched a brow. “Are you turning into Roan now?”
There was no chuckle or even a lip twitch in response.
“You’re starting to freak me out. Are you okay?”
Nash sighed. “I’m fine. Just pissed. Dislocated my shoulder.”
My gaze roamed over him, checking for any evidence that he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. “How’d you hurt your shoulder?”
The scowl was back. “My rope snapped while I was climbing. I had to catch the rock in freefall.”
Everything in me locked tight. I tried to breathe, but my lungs wouldn’t obey my brain’s command. “That doesn’t happen.”
It was the only thing I could think of to say. Before I’d moved to Atlanta, I’d helped on countless SAR rescue operations and hundreds more training sessions. I’d volunteered on the K9 unit, assisted at mission headquarters, and helped run countless drills. The SAR team was careful. Equipment was checked and rechecked.
Nash crossed to the picnic table and sat, kicking off his shoes. “It sure as hell shouldn’t, that’s for sure.”
I moved to him, lowering myself to the bench and waiting for him to explain. My breaths still weren’t coming as they should. Each inhale hurt with the force it required. I didn’t want to imagine a world without Nash in it. The idea was too much to bear.
“Someone tampered with some of our gear.”
I gaped at him. “Tampered with?” I sounded like a parrot, but it was all I could manage to get out.
He nodded.
“You could’ve been killed!”
Nash leaned back against the table. “Good thing I’ve got cat-like reflexes.”
“This isn’t funny.” The tears came before I could stop them, filling my eyes and spilling over.
“Oh, shit.” Nash sat up. “I’m sorry, Mads.”
“You could’ve died.” The tears only came faster.
He wrapped his good arm around my shoulders and pulled me in. “I’m fine.”
The tears came faster still as panic set in. He was my best friend. The only person who had been there for me for the majority of my life. He was hilarious, caring, and loyal. He was the best man I’d ever known—the man I loved with everything I had.
“Don’t leave me.”
“Mads.” He pulled me tighter against him. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me forever. Don’t you know that by now?”
I burrowed into Nash, careful to avoid his tender shoulder. “You promise?”
His lips skimmed the top of my head. “Always.”
I wiped at my face, struggling to get my emotions under control. “How bad does it hurt?”
“Doesn’t feel awesome. I’ve got some painkillers, but I need to eat something first.”
I jerked out of his hold and got to my feet. “Why didn’t you say something?”
The corner of Nash’s mouth kicked up. “Haven’t really had a chance. You were crying over my manly wounds.”
I glared at him. “Shut up.”
He chuckled. “You gonna make me lunch?”
“I shouldn’t since you’re mocking the fact that I care about you.”
Nash bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
“Men,” I huffed. “I’ll make you something, but you don’t get to pick what it is.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
I opened the fridge and examined the contents. I wanted to make Nash something he loved, but I also wanted food in his stomach as quickly as possible. Grabbing an armful of things, I got to work constructing a sandwich I knew was his favorite.
Footsteps sounded behind me. “Is that a Maddie special?”
“Maybe…”
“You got chips to go with it?” he asked hopefully.
My gaze cut to him. “What do you think?”
Nash grinned—that easy one I loved. “I’d bet you’ve got at least five flavors in those cabinets.”
“Five? Do I look like an amateur to you?”
He opened a couple of cabinets until he found the one with seven types of chips. I wasn’t someone who spent money on frivolous things, but I loved potatoes in all forms. It was the one luxury I’d allowed myself when I finally moved out on my own: as many kinds of chips as I wanted.
Nash pawed through the cabinet and emerged with a bag. “You got cheddar and sour cream.”
I sliced the sandwiches in two. “Yup.”
“But you don’t like cheddar and sour cream.”
“Nope.” I popped the P in the word.
Nash moved in behind me, his heat seeping into my back. “I think you just might like me, Mads.”
I did. Way too much.
I waved to Nash as I parked by The Brew, choosing a much more public parking spot this time. I wasn’t taking any chances with my new tires. Nash returned my wave, but there was no smile on his face as he drove off.
The poor guy had slept horribly with his painful shoulder, and he was less than pleased about being on desk duty until he was out of his sling. Lawson had called last night to check on him and had informed him of the development. Nash had tried to argue that it was his left arm that was injured, and being that he was right-handed, he’d be fine. Lawson hadn’t agreed.
Nash did not do well with sitting still. I grinned as I got out of my SUV. I remembered when he had chicken pox in the second grade. He’d gone so stir-crazy he’d snuck out of the house and started walking to town. His mom had caught him just as he reached the gate and lost her mind. He’d told her that sitting around was boring and he was going to find me. Her solution had been to put a bell on his door so it notified her every time he opened it.
I started toward The Brew, already planning what I’d bring Nash for lunch to brighten his day. People milled about, tourists and townspeople alike. I didn’t pay close attention to the faces, but I should’ve.
A large figure stepped into my path. The stark white smile had a chill running down my spine.
“Hey, babe. I missed you.”
