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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ST. CLARE

I sent Lars off to bed since there was no way in hell I was getting to sleep. My ears are pricked for any little sound, nerves on edge as the darkness gets darker, and it’s still me here, alone, waiting for someone I probably should have given up waiting for.

What if he’s not here in the morning? Or lunchtime? My chest tightens, and I have to remind myself to breathe. It’s Perry. He can get through anything.

I’m determined to stick to my resolution of trusting him.

It hurts though. Every second of going through this is testing me, and I don’t want to be tested anymore. Thinking of Colin makes it hard to breathe, and now, being separated from Perry makes it hard to focus on literally anything else.

I have no appetite, no patience, and no desire to get my ass off this couch until he shows his damn face again. I need that face.

My knuckles are aching at how tightly I’ve balled my fists on my knees, and when a low hum reaches me, followed by a sweeping light over the cabin windows, I finally let go. My fingers are stiff, but it’s nothing like the tension in my shoulders as I ease up from the dusty couch and approach the window. Lars would probably slap me for not waking him, but there’s something about the sound of the engine—like it’s desperately clinging to life—that makes me sure I’m not in danger .

It’s hard to see outside with the buildup of grime on the glass and the light flooding the trees, but after a moment, the engine cuts off, the lights go out, and I can make out the distinct body of an old Nissan sedan.

The moon washes the person who climbs out with silvery shadows, but I know those broad shoulders. That messy hair. The way he bangs his forehead against the roof of the car a few times before stepping back, scrubbing his hand through his hair, and taking long, determined strides toward the front door.

This weird, heart-floating feeling of relief sweeps through me, and I hurry to meet him there. The second the door is open, I want to throw myself at him and make sure he’s real, but I keep my feet planted firmly.

He jumps at the sight of me before he breaks into his grin. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t sleep without knowing you were okay . “I told Lars I’d take first watch.”

He strides past me like I haven’t spent the entire day half-convinced he’s dead. “I’m starving. Didn’t want to stop somewhere with cameras. Tell me we have something here?”

I’m slow to nod, then remember he can’t see with his back to me. “Yeah, there’s stuff in there.”

Of course Perry would just walk in here with only one thing on his mind. Meanwhile, I trail after him, looking for any signs of injury other than his shoulder.

There’s a rattle of pills as he pops open the container of painkillers, throws two back, and then drinks water straight from the jug. I watch as he goes from the fridge to the cupboard and then back again, collecting what I’m assuming are things for a sandwich.

He jumps again when he spins around, arms full of food, and finds me watching him. “You okay? You can go to sleep if you like. I’ll probably be up for a while.” He bounces on his toes. “Still running hot with adrenaline.”

Is he serious? “I thought you were dead! ”

Perry’s jaw drops, followed by the supplies he dumps on the counter. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“You said you’d be back tonight, and last I checked, we’ve already reached morning.”

“Oh. That.” He turns back to the food. “Took a bit longer than I thought it would, but nothing to worry about. He didn’t even threaten me. Well, much. I get the feeling I wouldn’t be so lucky next time.” He works as he talks, and I’m still stuck on how casual he’s acting when the relief I feel at being in the same room as him, hearing his voice, seeing him move around making the sandwich, is making me want to fold myself into his arms.

Actually, not want. Need.

I’m craving to have him against me so that I know I’m not dreaming.

But that’s a weird fucking reaction, so I shove it down instead.

“You spoke with Yanni?”

“I did,” he says around his bite of sandwich as he packs everything away. “Rough guy. Bit of a dick and wasn’t the least bit scared, which I’m trying not to take personally.”

That note of offense in his voice calms me slightly. Like it’s a reminder that I’m not dreaming because no way in hell would I imagine being offended that someone didn’t find me scary. The man in front of me is all Perry. “What did he say?”

Perry walks over and collapses back against the couch before switching on a dull lamp and patting the spot beside himself. “Nothing good.”

A spike of alarm hits me. “Is Colin dea?—”

“What? No .” He shakes his head. “Well, not that I know of it. Yanni hadn’t heard of anything, but he did give me a name.”

“Really?” I sink into the space beside him, not sure I can stand up much longer. “Who?”

“Someone called Carson Alexander. Apparently, he’s not a good dude.”

I let that sink in for a second. “Someone actually was after him. It’s not a misunderstanding.”

The thing is, I already knew that, but it doesn’t mean I wasn’t holding on to the scraps of hope. The need for him to be okay overrode common sense. “If he’s made my brother disappear, not being a good dude checks out.”

“No, but …” Perry sets the sandwich down on his plate and turns to me. “He’s apparently very, very not good. Yanni doesn’t even want to fuck with him.”

Great. That’s even worse than I thought.

“Just …” His tone goes gravelly. “Are you sure you didn’t know about this? Yanni said he took out a loan …”

I narrow my eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m scared he’s the one after you too.”

The fight rolls out of me. I’m suddenly very hungry and very tired. “I didn’t.” My voice drops. “I have no idea what the hell he’s done.”

“Shit.” Before I know what he’s doing, Perry wraps a long, warm arm around my shoulders and hugs me into his side. “We’re gonna find him.”

He sounds just like Lars.

I wish I could have their positivity, but this experience is draining it out of me.

He pulls back, rough fingers running over my jaw, thumb scraping the skin by my mouth. “Don’t give up on me. We’ve got this, okay?”

That draws a hesitant laugh, and as I look at him, all positivity and endless optimism, my mouth moves before I can stop it. “I missed you.”

His eyes light up. “It was only, like, a day.”

A whole day of separation and worry and this edge of restlessness I couldn’t shift. “I’m starting to think any day without you in it is a day wasted.”

His exhale is a puff of disbelief, and I can’t tell how I’m looking at him, but I’m struggling to believe the way he’s looking at me. Like clouds parting over the sun. The tide drawing back on a sandy beach. A moment where everything feels exposed and too much, but even if my brain doesn’t understand what’s happening here, I can feel it. Deep and consuming. The kind of knowledge that makes me overly aware of my heartbeat and the way my hands are clenched back into fists.

The corner of his lips twitches. “I’m starting to think you might be right on just about anything.”

“I like you having a high opinion of me.”

“You don’t give me a choice to think anything else.”