Page 118 of Finding Noah

But that clock wouldn't stop ticking, and with every minute she left behind, she was closer to knowing those reasonable explanations were nothing more than Band-Aids to keep her chest from cracking open and bleeding out with the certain knowledge that something was wrong.

Something was undoubtedly wrong.

Looking out the front window, wishing desperately that he'd turn into the driveway in that moment to keep her worry from growing, she laid a hand over her belly. Nestled safely inside was the baby she and Noah had made after nearly a year of trying, and now, she struggled to envision a life in which she lived in this house without him, raising their baby without him, visiting his parents and hers without him …

Meghan had kept herself from crying all day, but she began to cry now as she wondered how she could ever reiterate to their child just how much his or her parents had loved each other in their short life together.

“God, Noah, where are you?” she whispered into the empty living room as she dropped her gaze from the window to her phone once again.

She knew she needed to make a phone call, but this one wouldn't be sent to the love of her life.

I'm sorry, she mouthed to him, to the universe, an apology she'd give to his face when she hopefully saw him again—oh, dear God, please let me see him again—as she held her phone to her ear and waited for his father, the gentle giant, Soldier Mason, to answer, knowing that he would.

He always did.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

LIKE A GHOST

I'm freezing.

Am I dead?

No … not dead. Too cold to be dead.

But I can't open my eyes. Why can't I open my eyes?

I'm lying on something … soft. Is it a bed?

Where am I?

Disoriented, I tried to make sense of what was happening, where I was. My brain felt fuzzy, my memories from before I had fallen asleep blurred and jumbled, like a puzzle that had been knocked apart, the pieces scattered in a dark, dark room.

My limbs jolted, the cold reaching my bones and making them ache, and something rattled from overhead.

I reached out with my mind, knowing that sound from somewhere, but unable to place it.

Again, I moved my arms, with more purpose this time, and couldn't take them from their position above my head. Again, that rattling, clanging noise met my ears.

Handcuffs.

I'm handcuffed to something.

Gasping, I pulled harder, the sound echoing off whatever the cuffs were attached to. The metal dug into my wrists, rubbing against my flesh, cutting in and rubbing it away. Warmth slid over my skin, dripping down my arms.

Blood.

I coached my breath to even out despite the fear breathing life into my veins. I needed to assess my surroundings. I needed to figure out where I was, who I was with—if anyone—and with mounting strength, I managed to push through the fog to open my eyelids, only to be met by more darkness.

What the fuck is this?

Oh God, oh God …

My eyes squeezed shut as I blew out puffs of air through my mouth.

Calm down. Calm down. You’re no good if you’re panicking.

Slowly, I opened my eyes again to rove the space above me to find what I could only presume was a ceiling. Looking for anything, anything that might indicate where I was, only to find nothing but a shadowy expanse of emptiness until …