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“Thanks for picking me up,” Lindsay said. “I really could’ve come to your house.”
In fact, she’d tried very hard to convince Brooke to let her do that, but both Eleanor and Brooke insisted they’d pick her up. Both women were artists and self-confessed free spirits, which meant time didn’t really have any meaning for them—as she and Charlie had discovered over the last two years. Lindsay, on the other hand, was worried they’d all be late.
But her main concern had been that Blake would wake up. She’d showered last night and hadn’t even made herself a cup of coffee in fear he’d hear the noise. By some miracle he hadn’t woken up, and yes, Eleanor and Brooke were about fifteen agonizing minutes late, but there was still plenty of time to get to the airport in Bozeman.
“No trouble.” Brooke smiled.
“Hi, Lindsay.” Brooke’s six-year old Connor smiled sleepily. “Mommy said you’ll be sitting with me.”
Reaching out to the little boy, Lindsay touched his hand. “Of course I will.” Connor had a blanket, and within minutes he was sleeping, his head dropping towards her shoulder. An unexpected lump in her throat forced her to swallow a few times.
She loved children, always had. It was part of why she’d become a nurse. But after her experience with Mark... How could she ever trust a man again? Trust her own feelings? But if she never opened up her heart to someone else, she’d never be able to have children. Was that really the life she wanted?
“I was wondering what Blake has to say about your visit to Seattle?” Eleanor asked as they drove away. She was sitting in the front of the car, next to Brooke, and had turned around. “Wasn’t he upset?”
“Uhm...well, he doesn’t know,” Lindsay confessed.
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “You haven’t told him?”
Lindsay shook her head. “We have no idea when the police will catch Mark and, well...Blake has his own life to get back to.”
“But you’ve left him a note?” Brooke asked.
“Well...uhm...no...”
Eleanor looked at her sternly. “That’s not very nice, is it? He moved into your house to make sure nothing will happen to you. When he wakes up and you’re not there, he’ll be so worried.”
Lindsay swallowed a sigh and took out her phone. Eleanor was right, she knew it; she’d been agonizing over it since the day before. “Okay, I’ll text him.”
“Shame. He’s gone out of his way to look after you. He’ll probably be frantic with worry when he discovers you’re not there.” Eleanor was smiling, but the censure in her tone couldn’t be missed.
Lindsay’s finger hovered over her phone. She had thought of leaving a note, but she didn’t know what to say and she still wasn’t sure. After another few seconds, she finally typed a short message before she put her phone away.
––––––––
Blake opened his eyes. Something was wrong. He jumped out of bed and raced to Lindsay’s room. The door was open, her bed neatly made up, but she wasn’t there.
Damn it to hell.He’d struggled to sleep the night before and had only fallen asleep around four. He should’ve heard her when she’d moved around. She’d probably made a point of moving around silently, but he was trained to pick up noises; he should’ve heard her.
With his heart hammering in his ears, he charged out of her room and down the stairs. “Lindsay! Lindsay!” he called, switching on lights as he went.
But she wasn’t in the house. He’d actually known it the minute he’d opened his eyes. Where had she gone? Or had someone taken her? No, her bed was made up; it couldn’t be that.
Frantically, he looked around in the kitchen. She hadn’t even left a damn note. Maybe a text?
He sprinted out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and as he entered his room, his phone lit up and bleeped. A message. Hands shaking, he picked up his phone. From Lindsay. Quickly, he opened it.
On my way to Seattle with Brooke and Eleanor. Thanks.
He let out a frustrated roar, and grabbing his keys, he raced out of his room and down the stairs, his heart hammering away. If anything were to happen to Lindsay...
––––––––
It was quiet in thecar. Lindsay felt awful. She’d closed her eyes and was resting her head against the seat. It was clear both Eleanor and Brooke were upset because she hadn’t told Blake she was going to visit her sister. And sitting here, it seemed so obvious she should’ve told him. But the only thought she’d had yesterday was to get away from him as quickly and as far as possible, because he was making her feel things she’d never felt before.
There, she’d acknowledged it. But she didn’t have to say it out loud. Because it wasn’t real. Because it was temporary. She knew it, he knew it. That was why, in spite of his obvious desire for her, he’d walked away from her time and time again whereas she would’ve happily thrown herself into his arms, if he’d been willing.
Which he hadn’t been.
