No Complaints - Page 34

I’ll never be able to forget her.

There was no sign of her address in her bag, just keys, some gum, and a makeup set. I hope she managed to get into her apartment okay without the keys. I guess her sister let her in.

My body goes taut when I think about her wandering the streets at night. That’s another niggle at the edge of my mind.

What if she didn’t get home safe? What if something terrible happened to her?

Fuck.

Why, why, why didn’t I get her goddamn number?

I throw the ball for Rusty as I sit on the park bench, planning out my next move. She didn’t even have any ID in her handbag. I guess she keeps it in her phone case, in one of those little slots.

Crazed laughter tries to grip me when I confront the next fact.

I don’t even know her last name.

If I were to hire a private investigator – which is a serious option – what would I be able to give him?

Her physical description, her general location, and her job, that’s it.

Is that enough?

Burying my face in my hands, I groan softly.

I want and need this woman more than I’ve ever needed anything. She’s everything to me. She’s going to be the mother of my children. We’re going to support each other every day for the rest of our lives.

So why didn’t I get her surname, phone number, or address?

Maybe she could sense how crazy my feelings were becoming. Maybe, on some level, she knew she had to back off before I became overbearing, possessive, and jealous.

And I am. I won’t deny it.

I’m jealous of any bastard who thinks he gets to touch my woman.

After around thirty minutes, I clip Rusty’s leash and walk him from the park.

The rest of the morning passes as though I’m watching through a screen, disconnected from everything. I feed Rusty, answer a few business emails, and then get changed for the gym.

I stop, staring down at my T-shirt, suddenly finding the whole thing pointless. The only reason to work out is to stay strong for Rachel and our future children, so I’m fierce enough to hurt any motherfucker who’d ever dream of hurting them.

“I have to find her.” I slump on the floor, back resting against the bed, as Rusty pads over and rests his chin on my leg. “I can’t live like this, boy. It’s been a few hours, and already I feel like I’m losing my mind. But….”

He whines and looks up at me. I swear, sometimes this dog understands me.

“But what if she doesn’t want to be found? What if she wants me to stay the hell away?”

In the end, even if that’s true, I need to know one way or the other. I can’t exist in this in-between space, never sure if she left in a haze of anger and later regretted it… or if she really wants me to leave her alone.

Taking out my phone, I navigate to the cable company’s website.

It feels surreal as I stare down at the chat screen.

How could something so life-changing start with such a small thing?

I click the chat button, watching as the loading symbol appears, muttering a silent prayer that it’s Rachel.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Rachel

“Haven’t you got work at ten?”

I blink my eyes open, emerging from the dream. It’s been four days since I rushed out of Ryland’s apartment.

Every morning, I’m certain he’s going to be lying next to me, so close I can reach out and grip onto his muscled, secure body.

In the first seconds after sleep, I can believe it. I can even trick myself into believing Autumn’s voice is really his, that he’s the one encouraging me to get out of bed.

“Sis,” Autumn says as the final moments of sleep leave me, dropping me into a blunt horrible reality. “You don’t want to lose your job.”

“I know.” Sitting up, I rub my eyes. “I didn’t mean to oversleep.”

Autumn stands at the edge of the bed, frowning down at me. She’s wearing her tough-love face, the one she wore countless times when I was a kid, and she had to play mom. I can feel a speech coming, and I caution myself not to snap at her.

She only wants the best for me.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m not going to lecture you.”

I laugh dryly. “You’re a mind reader, sis.”

She sits on the edge of the bed, fiddling with one of her bracelets. “How long has it been now?”

My belly lurches, clamping tightly, the scene in Ryland’s apartment playing on hyperspeed through my mind. I see it all – the lust, the orgasm, the shattering, the separation – in the space of a second, flashing, taunting.

There are so many things I should’ve done differently.

“Four,” I say. “Well, today’s the fifth. Almost a week. And he has my number, sis. He could call me any time he wants, but he’s chosen not to. I need to let him go. It’s getting pathetic.”

Tags: Flora Ferrari Romance
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