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No reply. No three dots. Nothing.
I text Bastian.
Me: What’s your ETA?
No reply. I call him. He doesn’t answer. I call Isa. She doesn’t answer.
I call Mrs. Potter on the intercom.
“Yes, dear?” she answers.
“Have you heard from Bastian?”
“No.” I can practically hear the frown in her voice. “Why?”
“He won’t answer his phone and Isa won’t pick up either.”
“I’m sure they’re fine. Maybe Felipe got out or something,” she says but her voice indicates she’s as worried as I am.
“I’m going to see,” I state.
“Shall I have Thomas get Apollo ready?” she asks.
“No.”
“You taking the four-wheeler?”
“No. I’m taking the car. It’ll be faster,” I announce.
Her gasp is audible and it’s the last thing I hear as I hang up and go to the garage. Shaking, I find the key to my SUV and turn it on.
“You can do this,” I say to myself.
“It’s just a car and it’s not even a full five miles,” I remind myself aloud as if a pep talk is going to work.
I slowly pull out of the garage and turn onto the drive leading out to the road. As soon as I get away from the house, I realize I forgot my headlights.
“Stupid idiot,” I chastise myself as I turn them on and make my way to the main road.
There aren’t any other cars this late in the evening. Everyone is probably home for the night.
I head toward the town center. About a half mile from the library, I see flashing lights. And then I see two cars and one of them is mine. I immediately pull over. My knuckles are so white from gripping the steering wheel I’m surprised they haven’t left marks on it.
I slowly open my car door and walk toward the police car. Flashes of memories from the accident that took my parents come crashing back to me. And then I see them.
Bastian. Isabelle.
Relief as I’ve never felt before floods my entire body.
Isa’s talking to someone.
“Thanks, Sheriff Wallace. I’m just glad no one was hurt,” she says before her eyes track to me.
A myriad of emotions run across those facial features that I’ve memorized in the one month since we met. She takes five long steps and wraps her arms around my waist.
I don’t move for a minute but then I’m tugging her closer, burying my nose in her hair, kissing the top of her head.
“You’re OK,” I state more than ask.
