Page 37 of Accidentally Mine

Brent

T he sun shone in through the plantation shutters at the front of my house as I paced across the floor of my home office for the thousandth time, surprised I hadn’t worn a trail in the oriental rug. The house was empty, the only sound the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer.

I checked my phone for the fifteenth time that minute. No messages, no calls, nothing from Roselynn.

I’d gone into work for a bit then cut out after lunch since it was Saturday, thinking that I could get in a run around the Common before meeting up with Roselynn for dinner. I did a full five miles, and even managed a little weight lifting in my basement gym, and still…no call from Roselynn.

I’d tried to nail her down for a time. But I hadn’t wanted to push.

Was she blowing me off now? Packing? Already gone?

I started out of my office to call for Ernest, before remembering I’d given him the afternoon off. He was…I knew he’d told me, but I couldn’t remember.

My mind whirled. I felt like I was forgetting something. Something big. But try as I could, nothing came to me.

Throwing up my hands in frustration, I took a shower, shaved, and tried to calm down. Checked my phone again. Nothing.

I called her number. No answer. Called Claudia. No answer.

I couldn’t stay there all day, pacing, checking my phone ad nauseum. I’d drive myself crazy. I needed to take action, and now.

Sweat prickled the skin of my forehead as I walked into the kitchen and stood in front of the drawer that held miscellaneous items. Opening it, I reached in and found the set of keys under a pile of papers.

I headed to the garage where I had two parking spots that came with the brownstone.

One used to be for the Porsche. I’d gotten that car when I became a billionaire at twenty-five and thought having a cool car meant that a person had made it.

After my accident, cars no longer had any allure for me. I’d filled that spot with the Caddy XTS, which was only driven by Ernest. In fact, Ernest was driving it today—one of the perks of the job.

The other spot housed my father’s red 1975 MGB convertible.

I hadn’t driven it since I moved it into the place six years ago, but I knew Ernest had taken it out and kept up the maintenance.

While Dad had driven his pickup truck most places, he kept that MGB in the garage of our house in Woburn, and damned if he didn’t wash it almost every weekend. It’d been his pretty little toy.

I pulled the tarp off it and walked around it once.

As if I wasn’t nervous enough about getting behind the wheel again, my father wouldn’t let me drive it as a teen.

The only times I ever drove it was when moving it from his house in Woburn to the garage at my apartment near MIT, when I sold the house after he died, and then here when I moved in a few years later.

I could almost hear him telling me not to scratch the paint.

But it was mine now, and I wasn’t a kid anymore. Something was wrong with Roselynn. My gut was telling me to get a move on. So I climbed in and sank into the leather seat. Dug the small metal key into the slot and turned the ignition.

The MG was never quiet when it roared to life. It growled at me now, as if it knew exactly what I was going to put it through. “Sorry,” I told it, as if it actually had feelings.

Wrapping my hands around the steering wheel, I closed my eyes. A trickle of sweat ran down my ribcage. If I was ever going to get Roselynn to conquer her fears, I needed to face my own.

I took a deep breath, blew it slowly out. And threw the gearshift into reverse and pulled out.

Boston wasn’t the easiest city to get around in, even for people who’ve lived here their whole lives. I held my breath as I pulled out into traffic, a cold sweat breaking out all over my body as I signaled and crossed a lane to turn.

When I navigated the turn without the screech of tires or clash of metal, I exhaled.

Here I was, driving through these streets for the first time in almost three years.

After a few more turns, I loosened my grip on the steering wheel.

It actually felt good, with the wind whipping through my hair.

Still, I took deep breaths as I weaved through traffic, making my way to South Boston.

I pulled onto Leeds Street, double-parked on the car-choked street and rang the doorbell, banged on the glass panes of the door. Inside was only darkness.

I jumped as someone blew their horn at me for blocking the narrow street.

I jogged down the steps and hopped into the car again, and feeling more confident this time, plugged the address for the Spaulding Rehab Facility into my phone’s GPS.

Other than the cafés, that was the only other place I could think of to look for her.

By the time I got up to Charlestown and pulled into the hospital parking lot, I’d gained some confidence. Though my hands ached from clutching the steering wheel, I felt good. I’d conquered my fear.

Now, I just needed to find my girl and make her see I wasn’t going to leave her alone in this mess she’d found herself in.

I went into the rehab center, approached the front desk, and asked if I could see Marie Monroe. The woman at the desk winked at me. “Well, she’s very popular today. She’s already with a guest in the card room. You can go right through, though.”

So Roselynn was here. I let out an uneasy breath, rehearsing in my head what I needed to say to her.

But when I got to the card room, I came to an abrupt stop.

Marie was sitting at a round card table, across from Ernest. They were holding hands. Murmuring softly, eyes so intent on one another, they didn’t see me enter.

I should’ve suspected. Come to think of it, Ernest’s demeanor had changed a bit.

He was happier and had been telling me even more jokes than usual.

And while he used to spend his afternoons off out on the deck reading spy thrillers, lately, he’d been going out.

I hadn’t pried, and now it suddenly made sense.

Raising an eyebrow, I walked over to the table. “Hey, you two crazy kids,” I said somberly, patting Ernest on the back.

They looked up at me like two teenagers caught in the back seat of the car.

“Oh, hi!” Marie said. She looked healthier. I wondered how much of that had to do with the rehab center, and how much had to do with Ernest.

“Hey, kid,” Ernest said, a look of confusion on his face. He looked behind me, probably expecting to see Roselynn. “You here alone?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, plunging my hands into my pockets. I looked at Marie. “I’m looking for Roselynn. Have you seen her?”

Marie shook her head. “Not today. Which is odd because she usually visits by now. Have you checked the house?”

I nodded. “Just came from there. She wasn’t there.”

Marie thought for a moment. “Well, yesterday she mentioned going through her father’s company’s financial records. She’s probably at the office.”

I took the car keys from the pocket of my slacks. “Where’s that?”

Ernest looked at the keys, astonished. “You drove the MGB?”

“He has a few offices, one at each worksite,” Marie said, not noticing her beau’s utter amazement. “But his main office is in South Boston. At the site of the new strip mall that’s going in on Broadway.”

I was already backing up toward the door when Ernest said, “Do you need my help, kid?”

“No. Thanks. I got this. You guys enjoy yourselves.”

I headed back to the car. Once I was in the seat, I noticed a missed call on my cell. But it wasn’t from Roselynn. It was from Kyle. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I called him back. “What’s up, man?”

“Hey. So you heard?”

I sat at the intersection, trying to remember which way I needed to head. His words jarred me. “Heard what?”

“About Anthony Markin. Your girlfriend’s ex. The scumbag was released from prison this morning. Walked free about three hours ago.”

Shit. My blood froze in my veins. I forgot to upshift when I took off and the car’s transmission squealed. “Today? I thought he was being held on new charges. How did he get out?”

“How these types always do it. Someone’s greasing the wheels. They got a new judge who released him on his own recognizance, and despite all our efforts, a crook like Markin goes free. Nothing nobody can do. Happens all the time.”

I was only half-listening. Wherever Roselynn was now, she was in danger. Did she know that her slimy ex had been released? Had he already found her?

I took a deep breath, pushing back the fear for Roselynn that nearly swamped me. “Thanks, man. He could be after her. I have to find her. I’m headed to the site of the new strip mall down in Southie, where her father’s office is located.”

“ You have to?” he said, incredulous. “No, man. You don’t. Let us handle it and take her in. What you need to remember is that she’s a suspected fugitive who nearly killed you. You think it’s worth getting involved in this?”

“Yeah,” I said. I hardly knew her, but what I did know was that I was falling for her. Had fallen for her. “Yeah, she’s worth it. She calms the nightmare.”

“She started the nightmare,” Kyle pointed out. “Remember?”

That might have been true. But it didn’t matter. This nightmare needed to end for the both of us.

Wherever she was, I would find her. We’d figure this out. Together. She shouldn’t have to do this alone.

And no matter what anyone said, I was ready to make it happen. Even if after this was over, it left us with nothing. Even if we had to start over from scratch in a place we didn’t know. Even if it meant putting myself in harm’s way.

I’d never been more sure of anything as I threw the car into a higher gear, stomped on the gas pedal, and surged forward.