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Fucking hours ago.
And he hadn’t gotten one single word other than she was going to swing by the grocery store on her way home.
Panic impaled him, darts coming at him from every direction, but it was a different kind of panic than when this had happened for the first time.
That night? He’d driven every fucking street in Time River looking for her. Terrified she’d been hurt. Dread soaking him through that she was in trouble. She’d come in at two, drunk off her ass, wielding the most bullshit excuse he’d ever heard.
She’d promised it’d never happen again, but it’d happened three more times over the past six months.
And now?
Now he was pissed. Angry that she would pull this. Do this to him and their kids.
That anger roiled when he heard the quiet purr of her engine before headlights brightened against the window.
He didn’t know how to process the outright disgust that mixed with the overwhelming relief that she was okay.
He hated it—this feeling like he was out of control. Like there was nothing he could do to stop the spiral.
A couple minutes later, a key slid into the lock and the door creaked open slowly, like she thought he might not hear her slinking in hours after she was supposed to be home.
She froze in the doorway like she’d actually believed he wouldn’t notice.
Her breaths were shallow and ragged, and she quietly latched the door closed before she turned to face him in the gloomy shadows that crawled along the walls.
Silence stretched between them for the longest time before he finally gritted between clenched teeth, “Where the hell were you?”
She exhaled a shaky sound. “Oh…I ran into a friend who was having a bad day and she needed some company, so I hung out with her for a little while.”
Disbelief stoked the fury, and he shook his head. “And you didn’t think to send me a text to let me know?”
“Time just got away from me. I meant to.”
She meant to.
What bullshit.
He could smell the alcohol on her breath. Could taste her lies. He was so fucking sick of it.
“I’m finished making excuses to our kids for you.”
He could feel the disorder blow through her senses, and she took a desperate step forward and grabbed him by the wrist. “Please, don’t give up on me. I just…it was a rough day at work, and I needed some time to myself. You know what it’s like.”
“I would never leave you to worry about me.”
Even in the darkness, he saw her blink, her eyes the brightest green. “You think I don’t worry about you every day? That every time you walk out that door in your uniform, I don’t worry that you might not come back?”
“Don’t turn this around on me, Brianna.” The words slashed from his mouth. Razors that cut.
She clutched him with both hands, and despair rushed from her voice. “I don’t know how to handle the pressure, Ezra. It’s so much. Don’t you understand? Don’t you understand what I deal with every day?”
Sympathy edged into his consciousness, and he pulled her into his shaking arms. Shaking and shaking as he held her tight, praying that it would be enough to keep her demons at bay. He pressed his lips to her crown. “Baby, you can’t keep doing this. You can’t. You’re going to rip this family apart, and I can’t stand the idea of that. You need help.”
Because when she did this, he felt the strands of his love and devotion being snipped away, and that terrified him. Because each time, he didn’t hold her quite as tight.
She nodded against his chest with her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll be better. I promise.”
I promise.
THIRTEEN
SAVANNAH
I inched my car along the alley behind the apartment building on the farthest side of Time River, opposite from the motel where I was staying. A pitchy darkness clung to the sky since the moon was completely missing. Even with the few streetlamps that burned, a gazillion stars shone bright, like a vat of them had been poured out from somewhere deep in the heavens and they cascaded and weaved across the canopy in a river of surreality.
I peered at them through the windshield as I came to a stop, wishing upon all of them that this might finally be the break I was looking for.
I’d spent the last two evenings driving around town, trying to piece the few clues I had together, roaming the streets for anything that might strike a chord. I’d driven by this place after I’d gotten off my shift and was struck with a bolt of recognition.
The name of the complex was the exact same thing as I’d seen sketched into one of the latter pages in the journal.
Glenstone Ridge.
When I’d returned to my motel room and looked through the journal, I’d found a scribble of numbers right below.
