Page 65 of Hidden Resolution

His lashes brushed against his cheeks as he shut his eyes. Unerringly, he clasped her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, firm and lingering. Exhaling heavily, he nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed.

It was a solid minute before he released her, rose, and dressed, never pausing to check for her devastation or the arduous struggle to hide it.

“Walk me out?” he finally asked.

Plunge a knife in my chest?!

“Sure.”

She slid into a robe and followed him to the foyer.

At the door, he cupped her face, leaning in to press his forehead to hers.

“Don’t ever think you’re not good enough, love. My leaving has nothing to do with you.”

She grimaced, remaining silent.

Mason gave her a little shake. “I mean it. It’s all on me. I’m the one who’s broken. I’m the one who can’t be fixed. You’re perfect.”

Her composure shattered, and the sobs she’d been holding back tore loose. He caught her as she collapsed against him, burying her face in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Shonda,” he whispered raggedly, sounding as distraught as she felt. “I’m so goddamned sorry.”

Shonda couldn’t sleep.

Oddly enough, the final breakup with Mason wasn’t the reason she’d kept tossing and turning. Her decision, as painful as it had been, was the right call. While it hurt to make the course correction, having released her grief, she could strive to forget and move forward.

The act of quitting their toxic back-and-forth gave her clarity.

And in that stillness, her thoughts shifted to Erica.

There had been no call, text, or juicy play-by-play detailing Erica’s night with Zack. Yeah, she could have written it off—had they gotten intimate, ghosting a bestie would be natural—but the silence felt wrong. Off in a way she couldn’t explain, and unease slithered through Shonda, creating a persistent chill she couldn’t shake. The urgency to speak with Erica was suffocating her.

She tossed beneath the covers, willing herself to sleep, but the longer she waited, the more the tension grew, coiling tight inside her stomach. Eventually, she sat up, flung back the sheet, and reached for her phone. Her thumbs barely typed out “How did” when the device rang in her hands.

The number wasn’t one she recognized, but her compulsion to answer was strong.

“Hello?”

“Shonda? Hey, it’s Zack.” His voice was sharp-edged, bordering on frantic.

Instantly alert, she pressed a palm over her racing heart. “What’s wrong?”

“Erica and I had a fight. A knockdown, drag-out. She…” His gulp was loud and unfiltered. “Look, Shonda, I’m not asking you to betray any confidences or anything, but have you heard from her? She left the hotel, and I can’t find her. I’ve driven around town, trying to think of all the places she might’ve gone. I’ve even checked the hospitals.” His hysteria was escalating. “If she isn’t with you…”

The following silence was telling. Erica was in danger.

Knowing a psychopath was on the loose, she wouldn’t have vanished without checking in. Under standard girlfriend circumstances, she would’ve shown up on Shonda’s doorstep with her mascara streaked, muttering about men, demanding wine, and ready for revenge plotting.

“I’m on my way. Are you at home?” she asked, as she dragged on her jeans.

He was, and ten minutes later, she arrived at a scene straight out of a police procedural. The house was swarming with uniforms, Zack’s brothers flanked him in a defensive line, and the tension was thick enough to choke her.

She walked in on him mid-meltdown.

“Why are any of you still here?” Zack shouted, hands flailing. “Go out and do your fucking jobs!”