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“Awesome.” She set the pizza on the counter and pulled three bottles of wine from one of the bags. I grabbed plates and wineglasses while Kristy continued to unpack and stock my fridge and cupboards with Lord only knew what.
She glanced at me. “I got garlic knots too. Because, well, I think this weekend calls for carbs and butter.”
I knew better than to argue with Kristy, and to be honest, I didn’t want to. Eventually I needed to eat, even if I didn’t feel hungry.
• • •
We spent the day lost in movies that made us feel good about love. I tried to believe in the stories the way they intended for the audience to believe, but it was hard. Certain scenes triggered my worry, bringing me right back into the present, and I had to excuse myself more than once to escape to the bathroom in some attempt to pull myself together.
Happily-ever-after seemed to be something that eluded me, and I wondered if it always would. I knew I was feeling overly cynical, my guts knotted with apprehension and concern for Dalton. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t coming unraveled with each hour that passed with no word from him, but that was all I was doing—pretending. Kristy and I both knew it, but we avoided talking about it, knowing that addressing it wouldn’t change the situation.
It was so frustrating, knowing that no matter what I said or did, I couldn’t change things. I was helpless, stuck in the dark, waiting for answers. Answers that might never come. Answers that I might not want to hear. Having absolutely no control was a horribly discouraging feeling.
After the fourth movie ended, I yawned and stretched my hands above my head.
“Do you think you can sleep?” Kristy asked, and I nodded as I wiped at my tired eyes. “Good. You go and I’ll clean up.”
I looked around at our mess from the day. Dirty dishes, empty wine bottles, and balled-up napkins littered the coffee table. “Are you sure?” I asked, feeling guilty.
“It’s no big deal. Go. I got this.” She waved me off as I trudged down the hall to my bedroom.
A knock on my door a little while later startled me awake. I glanced at the red numbers on my clock that told me it was 12:11 a.m., and wondered who could be at my door this late. Flashbacks of two police officers waiting for me to pull open the door popped into my head as I slipped out of bed quietly. Kristy lay curled next to me, her body lost in a sea of bedcovers.
Another swift knock rattled the door, ratcheting up my nerves. Peeking through the peephole, I recognized Dalton’s silhouette, and I threw the door open to reveal one seriously stressed-out man. Thanking God he was safe, I felt my heart simultaneously leap into my throat and drop to the floor.
“You’re alive,” I said softly, my emotions a mixture of shock, happiness, and confusion as I took in his face, covered with scruff from days of not shaving.
“I’m so sorry, Cammie—” he started to say, but I cut him off.
“I’m so glad you’re not dead!” I launched myself into his arms and buried my face in his chest as the stress of the past thirty hours ravaged me, and tears fell.
Not How It’s Going to End
Dalton
Cammie’s body shook in my arms, her back hitching with each sob. Her tears soaked through my plain white T-shirt, and I couldn’t have cared less. “I thought something terrible happened to you,” she tried to say between sobs, and the words stabbed me straight in the heart.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I put you through that.” Holding her close, I stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, not wanting to let her go.
“I’m so happy to see that you’re okay. Really, I am. But I’m not.” She pulled away from me as tears spilled down her beautiful cheeks, and I had never felt so small before now. “I’m not okay. I haven’t been since Friday, Dalton. Where have you been?”
Knowing that I was the cause of Cammie’s tears gutted me. I never wanted to hurt her, and seeing her like this was unsettling, to say the least. “Can we please talk?” I practically begged as she moved to walk down her hallway and into the living room. I peeked in her bedroom as we passed, noticing a body next to the space where Cammie’s covers had been pulled back.
“Is Kristy here?”
“Of course she’s here.”
Cammie was shaky as she sat on the couch, flipped on a light, and pulled her knees up to her chest, watching my every move. She grabbed a loose blanket and tucked it around her body as I moved to sit next to her, giving her some personal space, but not too much.
I reached out to her, moving some of the dampened hair that was stuck to her cheek and tucked it behind her ear, grateful that she let me touch her at all. “I’m so sorry for everything. I can’t tell you that enough.” She swallowed, her facial expression hard to read, so I dove right into my explanation, realizing that I’d royally screwed things up between us. “I’ve been in New York since Friday. I didn’t have my phone with me, and I didn’t have your number memorized.”
Her head tilted as she processed my words. “What? New York?”
I could see so many emotions racing through her eyes. I couldn’t even imagine what I’d put her through these past couple of days, but I hated myself for every minute I was away and couldn’t contact her.
“Friday morning I got a call from my informant that our perp was at the docks. My partner and I went there, but it was wrong. It all felt wrong. It was a setup, but we realized it too late.” A slight gasp escaped her perfect lips, but I continued. “It wasn’t a setup for us; it was a setup for my informant. He gave us information and when we showed up, it only confirmed that he was a rat. My partner and I raced to meet the head of the case, where our entire West Coast squad got loaded onto a plane and flown to New York without any notice. Two of our informants, mine included, were missing. They’re still missing, actually. The whole case was in jeopardy.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “I didn’t have my phone because Tucker drove that morning. He’s my partner.” I paused, my head shaking as I bridled my annoyance. “He never drives. Ever. My personal cell was in my car, and I didn’t make it back there until tonight. I just landed and the battery was dead. I drove straight here.”
