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I coax her mouth open, tongue dancing with hers.
“Just promise me one thing.” I pull back, hands cupping her cheeks.
“What’s that?”
“That you won’t stand me up on our agreed-upon meeting day, like in the movie.”
“She didn’t stand him up. She was hit by a car. She—”
I erase her protest with a kiss. “Then promise you won’t get hit by a car. Or do anything else that will prevent you from being in my arms the second I sign my discharge papers.”
“I’ll be there.” She holds up her pinky, like we used to do as kids. “Pinky Promise.”
I link my pinky with hers. “Pinky Promise,” I repeat as my mouth reclaims hers, our pinkies still linked.
As I sink into her one last time, all I can do is pray that these next five months will be the last ones I ever spend without her.
ChapterForty-Six
Creed
By the timeI pull into my driveway after taking a detour to the gym, then the office, Rory’s car is gone, indicating she already left for AJ’s football game, much to my relief.
I hate avoiding her like this, but I need time to figure out how I’m going to handle things. It doesn’t help that Adam’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks, which is always a difficult time. Hopefully, she’ll understand why I need to start extricating myself from this situation. That she’ll see I’m not abandoning her, but moving on with my life.
Maybe this will give her the freedom to move on withherlife, too.
When I step into the house, everything’s quiet. The kitchen’s a bit of a mess, dishes scattered across the island, a stack of dirty pans piled in the sink, evidence of a rushed breakfast. On the refrigerator is a hastily scrawled note, reminding me about AJ’s football game in thirty minutes, giving me just enough time for a quick shower.
I grab a banana from the fruit basket and quickly eat it. Just as I toss the peel into the garbage bin, my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket, secretly hoping it’s Esme. Instead, I see my father’s name.
While we’re much closer than we once were, he still doesn’t call me out of the blue like this. Whenever he needs to discuss something, he typically stops by my office. Or calls my work mobile. Not my personal one.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, dispensing with a normal greeting.
“Did you see the news?”
Heat rushes over my face, my worry increasing.
Were paparazzi stationed outside Gladwell and decided to make a quick buck by selling a photo of me leaving in the early morning hours to the media? We’d just agreed to wait until August to avoid this kind of thing. Did we screw ourselves over already?
“I haven’t. I—”
“A car was pulled from Sufford Lake in the Brimford Recreation Area. A fisherman discovered it yesterday evening.”
I blow out a breath, shoulders falling in relief that this isn’t regarding Esme and me.
“What does this have to do with—”
“It was registered to Callie Sloane. Her remains were found in the trunk.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, processing this news. I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s been missing for ten years. Regardless of any evidence of foul play, I’d assumed she was dead. At least her family will finally get some closure.
If she has any family.
From what I remember, Hayes Barlow was the only person who seemed remotely interested in finding her.
“Were they able to determine the cause of death?”
