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“Hello, beautiful.” Standing, he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. He lifts his hand and gently strokes my good cheek with the back of his fingers.
“How did you know?” I ask.
“Know what?”
“Evan told me he texted you, with my phone,” I say, my voice barely audible.
“Yes, he did. Only, I knew it wasn’t you.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did. I know you, and you would never do that. Besides, the lingo wasn’t you.” I give him a funny look and he shrugs. “The text said things you would never say, at least not the way they were written.”
“Oh.”
“As soon as I read the text, I called Brenda to see what was up. She said she hadn’t heard from you, which was a big red flag. If you were that pissed, I knew you would have called her.” He’s right. She would have been my first call.
“Go on.”
“Once she confirmed my suspicions, I was on the next flight home.”
Scooting back on the bed slightly, I wince from the pain emanating from my shoulder. Chase gives me a look of concern, but I assure him I’m fine. “So, how long before you tracked me down?” Chase runs his hands through his hair, a sign of distress I know all too well. “Chase, how long?”
He’s frozen, staring at me. It must be bad. “Almost two weeks,” he whispers, his voice filled with pain.
“No, that can’t be right. I wasn’t there that long, was I?
“I searched everywhere for you. The police, too. I went to every place I thought he would take you,” Chase says, anguished. “Finally, I thought of all of the places he would never go, and I remember you told me he hates the beach . . .” his voice trails off.
“Yes, he does hate the beach. It’s ironic that it’s where we wound up.”
“He must have known no one would think to look at the beach house. Apparently, he bought a boat and stashed you onboard without anyone being the wiser.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. He drugged you.”
”I received a phone call and went outside to take it. I had some girls watching my drink, but apparently they didn’t do a hot job.”
“He has been stalking you for weeks. He knew we were fighting, and he definitely knew I was out of town.”
“Oh, God,” I whisper to myself.
“What?” Chase asks, concerned.
“Evan . . . you don’t know what he had planned.”
“Baby, you don’t need to tell me now. You need to focus on getting better. Please, don’t worry about anything, I’m here now.”
“Chase—”
“No. The last thing you need is stress right now. Sleep, we’ll talk about whatever it is that’s freaking you out later.”
“I am really tired,” I say, yawning.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, soothing my nerves. Standing, he takes the remote for the bed and I slowly go from sitting up to lying flat. He bends down and places a soft kiss on my forehead. “Sleep.”
I’m awakened by screaming. A loud, screechy voice fills my room. It could only be one person: my mother. Slowly opening my eyes, there she stands with tears running down her face and an expression I haven’t seen since my father died. “Olivia,” she sobs, “I’ve been going out of my mind with worry! I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.”
