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“And you’re an expert?” I counter.
Grim scrunches his face, and it’s all I can do not to laugh outright at the expression. “Violet’s trained me well.”
“Clearly.” I take a deep breath and consider what he’s telling me to do. “What if I get there, and she’s mad that I showed up? It’s not like we’ve talked about meeting each other’s family or anything yet.”
“Rogue, she’s met your family. All of us.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. And I’m still telling you to go. Trust me.”
“I don’t know,” I hedge.
“Have I ever led you down a bad path?”
I think about the day I came home to a kidnapped sinner in my living room. Most people would consider that being led down a bad path. But I’m not most people.
“No, you haven’t.”
“Then go.”
Nodding, I whirl around and head toward the elevator. I take out my cell to send a quick text.
Me: I’ll meet you there. If ur not okay with that tell me
My phone pings as I reach the garage.
Skye: I appreciate that. Thanks
Me: See ya soon
Just over an hour later, I’m parking my Harley at Guardian Springs. I scan the lot for Skye’s vehicle, but I don’t see it. I don’t panic though because I’m pretty sure there’s another lot on the other side of the building, and I’m sure her car’s there.
When I walk through the double doors and into the lobby, the receptionist lifts her head from the computer and smiles.
“Hi. Who are you here to see?”
Shit. I don’t know her grandma’s name.
“I’m actually meeting my girlfriend here,” I explain. “Her grandmother is a resident, and she got a call earlier today saying her grandma was very sick.”
“And who’s your girlfriend?”
“Skye Summers.”
“Oh, Skye is super sweet,” the woman gushes.
“She is.”
“Then you’re here to see Patricia Summers.” She glances at her computer screen and taps on the mouse several times. “Sir, no one called Skye today.”
My stomach plummets. “That’s impossible.”
“I’m afraid not, sir. Patricia isn’t even sick.” Her expression falls. “Well, not with anything beyond the Alzheimer’s.”
“She doesn’t have pneumonia?”
“No, sir.”
