Laney disappears around eight-thirty.
I notice because I always notice. More than a few months of learning someone's rhythms means you feel their absence from a space the way you feel a change in weather. Not dramatically, just a shift in the atmosphere that registers before you've consciously identified it.
She's there and then she's not.
I give it ten minutes because sometimes Laney needs a moment and I've learned the difference between giving her space and giving her too much of it. I talk to Wyatt about the Whiskey River version of events he delivered in his toast, which gets funnier the more liberties he admits to taking.
I listen to Harvey's brother, whose name turns out to be Dale, play something on the guitar that makes Pearl tap her foot which is the highest available musical review in Silver Ridge.
Ten minutes.
Then I go looking.
I find June first.
She's near the barn door with her phone in her hand and an expression I haven't seen on June before. Focused, alert, carrying the calm organizing energy she brings to situations that need steady hands. She looks up when she sees me.
"Where's Laney?" I say.
Something moves across June's face. "She just needed a minute. She's fine."
"Fine like actually fine or fine like Laney fine." June looks at me. I look at her.
"June," I say carefully. "What's happening."
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Looks at her phone. Looks at me with the expression of someone holding information that isn't hers to give and feeling the weight of that considerably.
"She's fine," June says again. Quieter. "I promise you she is fine. Give her a little time."
I look at the ranch house. The cabin. The barn.
"Is she—"
"Beckett." June puts her hand on my arm. Firm, certain, the June version of stand down. "Trust me. Fifteen minutes. She'll come back and she'll tell you when she's ready."
She squeezes my arm. "Go talk to Earl. He's been standing by the food table for forty five minutes trying to figure out how to tell you he's happy for you without saying he's happy for you."
I look at the food table.
Earl is standing at the food table studying a bread roll with the focused attention of a man who is absolutely not thinking about bread rolls.
I go talk to Earl.
"Good party," I say.
"Food's good," he says.
"Jolene brought it."
"Mm." He picks up the bread roll. Sets it down. "You're going to do right by her," he says. Not a question. Not even really directed at me. Just a thing he's saying to the food table.
"Every day," I say.
He nods.
Picks up the bread roll again.
We stand at the food table together in the string light glow and Earl eats his bread roll and I watch the party and think about June's face and Laney's absence and fifteen minutes that feels considerably longer than fifteen minutes.
