Page 82 of Only Be Mine

They’d talked to neighbors. Mrs. Whitely said she’d seen John cross the street toward the jogging path earlier that night. She wasn’t sure if she’d seen him come back.

Seth and Jim walked the path anyway. Trevor searched the grassy areas along the edge, their flashlights cutting through the dark.

Nothing.

We gathered in the living room, all of us pretending not to stare at the door. Pretending not to listen for the phone.

It never rang.

By five, exhaustion took everyone but me and Amy.

She guided me upstairs when my legs finally gave out, her arm firm around my waist. I collapsed onto the bed, my face burning, eyes swollen shut.

“We’ll find him,” she murmured, rubbing my back in slow, steady circles. “We will.”

The words cracked something open.

“It’s my fault,” I sobbed. “If I hadn’t fought with him… If I hadn’t said what I said, he’d be here.”

Amy stilled. “What fight?”

I wiped my face with my sleeve, breath hitching. “He asked me to make Lindsay a bridesmaid. For Seth. I lost it. I said things I didn’t mean.” My voice broke. “He apologized. Said he needed air. He was just going to take a walk.”

Amy disappeared briefly and came back with tissues, pressing them into my shaking hands.

“Could he have stayed somewhere else?” she asked gently. “A hotel?”

I shook my head. “He said he’d see me tonight. He texted me. He wouldn’t just… not tell me.”

She didn’t argue. Just pulled my hair back into a loose tie and helped me under the covers.

“Try to rest,” she said. “I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

I curled around his pillow, breathing him in. Cedar. Clean cotton. Familiar enough to hurt.

Sleep came in fragments.

I dreamed we were on a yacht in the middle of the ocean, John laughing at the wheel, Baby at our feet. Wind in my hair. Sun on my skin. Safe.

When I woke, the bed beside me was cold.

The house was dark.

Voices drifted up from downstairs.

Hope surged, sharp and sudden, and carried me halfway down the stairs before I saw the uniform.

A police officer stood in the hallway, tablet in hand, speaking quietly to Amy and Sarah. Baby whimpered from her bed.

The room tilted.

I sank onto the steps, my heart hammering so loud I was sure they’d hear it. I pressed my back to the wall, breath shallow, listening.

No evidence of foul play.

We’re still looking.

We’ll follow up.