Page 19

Where the fuck did she go? Short of hot-wiring his buddy’s car, there was no way she’d have been able to leave his remote home. Had she decided to hitchhike out of there? She didn’t seem stupid.

As he paced through the shadowed rooms, the darkness he’d once relished now pressed like a weight. The house had never felt so empty. This was what he’d wanted—her gone, leaving him with the silence and the shadows.

Then why did it feel so wrong?

He doubted Addison knew the extent of her brother’s destruction—the trail of broken hearts and emptied bank accounts and angry victims he’d left in his wake. How long until one of them confronted Addison and took their anger out on her? She might be used to cleaning up Yarrow’s messes, but she had no idea the shitstorm she was currently chasing.

Had she decided to walk to the nearest town? But then what? She wouldn’t go in search of Yarrow without a clear direction. Wherever she was, he was dragging her back. Now. Immediately.

He reached for the spare keys on the hook by the door. The cold metal bit into his sweaty palm as he squeezed.

There. Easy part done.

Now open the door.

Sunshine exploded across his vision. He lurched backward, seeking the safety of shadows.

Try again.

He couldn’t manage to fill his lungs with enough air.

Lift your foot. Step over the threshold.

Nothing. His foot refused to lift. His brain refused to cooperate.

“Dammit.”

He made another attempt. It was like pulling free of wet concrete.

The world spun, spots dancing at the edges of his vision. He forced his hand past the doorframe—one final, failed push.

Fuck. Even after all this time, he couldn’t manage the outside.

Why here? Why now?

The media attention had made going outside in LA hell, but he’d been able to manage it. The news cycle had mostly moved on since then. He’d expected to be invisible in Ireland. Then that asshole at the airport with his phone camera pointed at him. Some people remembered—still treated him like a spectacle.

What if he had another panic attack out here? What if this one made it online? What if he passed out? Pissed himself? They’d love that.

Addison was out there, somewhere. So were the others looking for Yarrow. They could find her, hurt her because of her brother—and he’d be useless to help, stuck on the wrong side of the door.

His phone buzzed with a familiar number. Unlocking the screen, he read the long text from his PI.

Yarrow hadn’t been lying—Netta’s mother had nearly killed the child.

Another message. This one short.

Shit.

It took a good thirty seconds before he formulated a response.

Wherever the hell Addison was, he couldn’t let her know about this. Not yet.

Scanning the horizon from the doorway, he saw her running past the ruins of the abbey below. He hated how the very sight of her made his racing heart settle. With her bouncing ponytail of bright hair and matching orange outfit, she was easy to spot on her way back to him. No. Back to the house she shouldn’t have left in the first place.

Her head swiveled from side to side as she took in her surroundings. Stopping next to a cow grazing near the fence, she extended her hand.

The bovine seemed as taken with her as he was. The animal butted its head against Yarrow’s palm and although she was too far to see for certain, he could have sworn Yarrow smiled. She must have cooed something to the cow—someone like her would be a cooer—before giving the animal one last rub and resuming her jog.