Page 35 of Tracked
“I’m not, but it is a possibility, and one we should be prepared for.” The way his jaw fired, I’d be shocked if it wasn’t sharp enough to split the hairs of his short beard.
“Where else would she be?”
“And what if she’s been at the retreat the whole time and hasn’t contacted you because she can’t? Or what if she still doesn’t want to talk to you?”
His words weren’t meant to harm. They weren’t accusatory or denigrating, like what Brandon had said earlier. But like the blade of a scalpel wielded to flay damaged tissue from healthy, they still cut a painful path to the tenderest of flesh.
Still, he was right. That was also a possibility, and one I should be prepared for.
“Then I guess our relationship will be no worse off than it already is,” I said with defeat. “As long as she’s safe, I don’t care how she feels about me.”
At least that sentiment, I knew he’d understand.
“Let me clean up quick, and then I’ll take you back to the Betty,” Calder said, standing and stacking my plate on his.
“Okay.”
As he washed the dishes, I moved to the small couch, wanting to put my feet up for just one minute. Already feeling my eyes turn heavy, I reached for the crossword puzzle from the pile of Calder’s things. Hopefully, this exhaustion meant I’d sleep soundly tonight.
Philtrum
I paused on the neatly printed letters, the only answer in all caps.
For the first time since I’d set us on this path, I really let my mind dip its toes into what I’d signed us up for.What would this fake relationship really entail?Talking—therapy, I assumed. But what if there was more? What if there were physical exercises?Intimate exercises?
My heart charged forward as I forced those thoughts back.
Resting my head on the back of the couch, I pushed my brain to focus on the black and white squares in front of me—an easier puzzle to solve than my simmering attraction to my sister’s good-looking, good-cooking ex-boyfriend.
It wasn’t long before the soothing rush of water from the sink, the soft cushion of the couch, and the simple abundance of exhaustion was enough to send me over the edge into sleep.
“Lara!”
Gasping, I grabbed my chest to catch my heart as it tried to escape. Ian’s red eyes and dilated pupils as he lunged for me freshly imprinted on the inside of my eyelids; it wasn’t what had happened that day, but my nightmares didn’t care how much they twisted the truth, as long as it made it more traumatic.
“Lara.” The deep velvet of Calder’s voice was like a warm weighted blanket over my trembling consciousness, his hand on my shoulder, anchoring me in the midst of the storm. “Are you all right?”
No.
“Yeah.” I nodded quickly, fighting to steady my breathing and keep my eyes away from his hunting gaze.
If Calder looked too closely, he’d know something was wrong, and if he knew something was wrong, he might change the plan for tomorrow. His words—I won’t spare your feelings at the expense of your safety—rattled around my head like a grenade waiting to explode.
“Yes, sorry. I just ... I must’ve been dreaming,” I insisted, sitting up straighter and taking stock of my body. My vitals. My racing pulse. My damp skin.
Just breathe.I coached myself like I was talking to a patient. The adrenaline, the panic, the fear ... it wasn’t unlike many of the patients I’d treated in the ER with severe injuries, their bodies going into overdrive to compensate.
In my case, the only injury I’d sustained was to my mind. Dr. Morgan had strongly recommended therapy during my time off, but my invisible demons weren’t nearly as important as my missing sister, so therapy would have to wait.
“I don’t think it was a dream. You were panting and crying—” His voice caught. “It reminded me of when Colby had nightmares after our mom died.”
The ball in my throat swelled. At least I hadn’t yelled Ian’s name ...
“I’m sorry, but it was just a bad dream. They happen to everyone,” I murmured and cupped my hands over my face so he couldn’t look me in the eyes. Normally, I would’ve just closed them, but if I did that now, I knew what I’d see.Ian. Angry. Dead. His father. Enraged.And that would only make it worse.
“Don’t apologize.” Calder withdrew his hand, though his gaze roamed over me, the brush of heat searching for every confirmation I was okay. “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”
“No.” I shrugged and shook my head. “I’m sure it’s just from the stress of Rachel being missing. Of not knowing ...”
