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She sighed and he thought her tense muscles unclenched a little.
“All right. Then go take your shower and get back here already.”
He raised his brows. “Because our break is truly over?”
“If you still want it to be. I wouldn’t blame you if you?—”
He crossed the room and kissed her before she could finish the sentence.
She laughed against his mouth and kissed him back. He’d never been so relieved in his life. “I love you,” he said, wrapping her up and kissing her again and again. “I love you more than I even knew.”
When he finally stopped, she had tears on her cheeks. “Go take your shower.”
He kissed her once more, then headed into the bathroom. On the way in he heard her phone chirp. He hurried through his shower, eager for the making up part of their breakup.
When he came back out, she was gone.
Her car was gone. Her phone was gone. Jeremy swallowed hard, grabbed his phone, texted Misty.
Jeremy: What happened?
Misty: Meeting Christy. Sorry. She needed me.
So did I, he thought, and the voice in his head sounded like a whiny shit, even to him. Misty and Christy were more than sisters. They were twins. They would always be number one to each other. And he didn’t think he’d want it to be different.
Jeremy: Let me know if I can help.
She didn’t reply, so he curled up on the bed to wait and eventually he fell asleep.
When he woke, the sun was beaming in on his face and Misty still wasn’t back.
* * *
RACHEL
Christy’s car was in the driveway. Our headlights spilled across it as we pulled into our home away from home.
But I didn’t see the Firebird or Misty’s Jeep.
As soon as we got out of the car, I heard Myrtle’s snuffly version of a bark from inside the house, and I ran up the front steps. Over and over, she yipped. The front door was unlocked. It opened when I twisted, and Myrt was on the other side, yipping over and over, with so much force her front paws came off the floor.
I turned to Mason. “Something’s wrong. Find Christy!”
He ran past me, up the stairs, and I heard doors slamming and his steps pounding from room to room. I gathered my trembling bulldog into my arms and lifted all sixty pounds of her. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. Everything’s okay.”
Mason came running down the stairs and surged through the rest of the house and out the back door. I carried Myrtle through to the master bedroom, where her big, fluffy cushion was already on the bed, and I set her there and pet her and soothed her as best I could while shaking myself.
Mason came back into the room. “She’s not here. But her car is. So that means someone else took her,” Mason said.
“It might’ve been Misty and Jeremy. They’re both MIA too.”
“They were getting a motel room,” Mason said.
“Wow. Okay, thanks for telling me.”
“He confided in me. What was I gonna do?”
“She wouldn’t have left Myrtle alone. And you saw Myrt, she was traumatized.”
