My jaw drops. I thought it would take Cullen much longer before he’d ever want to go back there.
“Why are you going there?”
Abandoning the sandwich I was going to make, I go back to my room to get my shoes and wallet, listening while he tells me their idea.
“We thought we could do some looking around. I don’t think Detective Dipship is actually trying, Hud. They had to have missed something at that campsite.”
For once, Cull’s recklessness may pay off. I’m pissed and fed up, and ready to reclaim the parts of me that this fucker has stolen.
“I’m in.” The words come out strong, determined. “Do you have your gun?”
I may be ready to find and pummel him, but I’m also not an idiot. The guy is obviously dangerous, and we need some sort of protection, just in case.
Cull lets out a small, incredulous laugh. “Yeah, I have it. Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”
“I’m just fed up, babe. Be careful, and I’ll see you in ten. I love you.”
He returns the "I love you" then disconnects the call.
I sit on the edge of my bed and slide my sneakers on, then reach for my wallet on my bedside table. The drawer is slightly ajar, so I shut it, then grab a cut-off tank from my dresser.
Once I’ve changed my shirt, I reach for my smart watch, but it isn’t where I left it. Remembering the cracked drawer on my nightstand, I go to see if it’s there.
But it’s not.
And neither is my hospital bracelet.
I kept it after I came home as a physical reminder of the cost of what I did. It’s something I look at every day, reminding me to give thanks to the powers that be for sparing me.
My skin prickles.
That bracelet never leaves that spot.
I turn in a slow circle, my eyes locking on different objects in my room. The cogs in my brain start to slowly come online, and I do a search looking for things I’m just now realizing I haven’t seen in weeks.
My soccer jersey is gone, and so is my favorite hoodie. The photo strip Cull and I got from a photo booth on our first date is missing from my bedside table, and so is the bottle of bubbles he gave me in the hospital.
My heart races, all the puzzle pieces coming together.
This motherfucker has been in myhouse.
A feral yell rips its way from my throat, anger and fear colliding into an explosion offuck this shit.
Hurrying down the stairs, I rip my keys from the bowl where they lay, slamming the door behind me.
Cullen
“Eat leather, asshole,” Archer laughs as I undercompensate and take a soccer ball to the jaw. I dove a second too late, and now my face stings as if Hadley slapped me.
“I fucking hate being a goalie sometimes,” I complain, dropping down onto the grass and taking a long sip from my water bottle.
“Well, if you didn’t suck, you’d probably like it more,” Matt teases, crouching next to me and ruffling my hair.
I slap his hand away and growl. “I’m not a dog.”
Matt laughs, standing up and dribbling the ball between his feet.
Archer comes to sit next to me, breathing harder than he should.
