Page 70 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)

Lyra

The Panic

C arver wasn’t by my side when Dick started his usual shit beyond the window. No note taped to the door. No smell of bacon and eggs, no sound of running water.

Nothing but silence inside.

I slipped on boots and a button down of his and walked to the barn, thinking maybe he went to talk to B again.

But, no. Not only was Carver not there, his truck was also gone, something my too sleep-deprived brain failed to notice while walking out to the barn in the first place.

I ran inside to check my phone. Called him, too, when that came up empty.

Nothing.

No text. No call.

No note.

A sheen of gold went by the window as the sun crested the tops of the trees, and that sent me back outside.

I waved my hands and shouted, “Hey! Stop!”

Hayes turned slowly on his heel and put his hands up like I had a gun. He looked me over real quick, then fit both hands in his pockets. “Mornin’.”

“It hasn’t been a week yet,” I said, glancing between him and my car. “You hear from Car this morning?” It didn’t seem like his friends went against what he said to do, which meant Carver had this sent earlier for a reason.

He cocked his head, light brown brows furrowing almost with amusement. “Your car is right there.”

I crossed my arms. “Not my fucking car. My husband, Car. ” He kicked at the dirt, finding it more fascinating than my question. So I stomped up to him and repeated myself. “Did you hear from my husband? Did he tell you to bring this back?”

His broad shoulders lifted. “Dunno.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I—”

“You all went hunting , then the next day Jamie signed over his rights to the facility and seems to have left town like it was nothin’.” I tapped my foot on the gravel as his face turned slightly more stony than it had been. “You think I’m dense?”

The corner of his lips twisted ever so slightly. “No, ma’am.”

“You know my damn name, Hayes. Use it and tell me where Carver went off to.”

“Work.”

“Bullshit.” He would have left a note. He always did.

“Did you drive up there and check?”

My eyes narrowed on him. “You think you’re real funny, don’t you?”

“No.”

“You know what? I was gonna offer to drive you back to wherever you need to go from here since you brought my car back, but fuck that. You can walk.”

He laughed and turned, lifting his hand in a wave as he walked away. Apparently being mostly silent could still make you a jack-ass.

I got into my car and turned the key that’d been left in the ignition, then drove to the facility. I got through the two gates, and parked next to the first vehicle I saw, then banged on the door. A man a little younger than me opened it from the inside, his hair going every which way.

“Mrs. Roland?”

“My husband inside?”

His forehead wrinkled as he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. “Is he inside?” he repeated slowly.

Agitation churned my empty stomach. “That is what I asked, yes.”

“Um…”

I pressed the back of my hand to my head. “Jesus, you too?”

“Me too?”

“I suspect you’re Leo. So, I need you to call Carver.”

“I am.” Leo scratched the back of his head. “Not really supposed to use my phone on duty, though.”

I clenched my fists at my sides. I’d heard him answering his phone on duty before. I was in the same truck as Carver had been when he cleared The Sanctuary for us. “Is he in there, yes or no?”

“Maybe?”

I nudged into his shoulder and tried pushing the door open, but Leo barred my entry with his arm.

“Move,” I gritted out through my teeth.

Leo almost looked concerned, though for his job or for me, I wasn’t sure. “Did he say he was working today?”

“I said—”

“Listen.” Leo lowered his voice and glanced up toward a camera. Sighing, he dropped the arm that barred me. “I don’t know where he is but it ain’t here. I haven’t seen him or his truck today.”

I scanned the parking lot from where I stood. “Oh.” How’d I miss that? Because I was busy going crazy, that’s how. “You have access to the cameras?”

Leo shook his head. “Not the ones around your property. The boss would kill me if I saw—” He cleared his throat. “No. I don’t.”

I flexed my fingers out, trying to ease the slight tremor in my hand. “Can you try calling him? Please? He won’t answer for me.”

Leo hung his head and shook it. When he straightened, he was putting his phone on speaker. The line rang and rang with no answer. “Did you try the bar?” As I shook my head, he flipped through his phone, clicked the word ‘bar’ and set that call on speaker.

No answer.

“Grant? Hayes?” he asked.

“Hayes wouldn’t tell me, so I came here.”

“Oh.” Leo’s phone disappeared into his pocket, like what I said finally made it all make sense. “Why don’t you wait for him?”

“I’m not waiting around like some dog.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” His hands waved frantically between us as he eyed the camera again. “Look, obviously I can’t tell you what to do. But your husband wouldn’t disappear on you. He’ll be back.”

I unthreaded the fingers I’d been twisting. What no one else had running through their head was how the cops had come to our door, and then Jamie signed those papers. Chet found a way to get to me, who was to say someone didn’t do the same to Car? What if—

“I’m not sure if this helps, but I’ve never met a more capable person than your—hey, where are you goin’?”

“To find my husband.”

I got back in my car and fled the facility, dialing his phone over and over, wishing he’d pick up. Each time the line went to voicemail, my heart sank to my stomach.

Worry clogged my throat, mixing with emotions that were too much. It was all too fucking much.

I put my hand flat against my temple, shielding the oak with our initials and a heart carved into it from view while Carver’s words replayed in my head—

It’s more than a tree. It’s us.

My chest burned, faint rays of sun guiding me over the stream across the bridge. His voice continued like a broken record—

Every inch of you has always been mine .

“Pick up! Pick up!”

“What if I don’t need you for anything?” My stupid reply to him adding his number to my phone circled my head, cutting through the reasons he still wasn’t home as I drove by the busted up truck and remnants of a bonfire.

When my eyes finally landed on the wrap-around porch surrounding our home, my heart sank to my stomach.

His truck still wasn’t there. The horses were still in the barn.

None of the memories made the hurt go down any easier. None of them stopped the tears from escaping my burning eyes, rolling down my cheeks, splashing on my bare thighs. I reached down to my knee, rubbing the faint scar.

I shook my head and tried a new number. After several attempts of calling Grant, I flipped through the call logs, and that’s when everything around me faded from view. I slammed on the brakes as I saw the time from this morning when Alliston Springs Hospice Center had called.

How’d I miss that before?

I threw my phone onto the passenger seat, shouting like it was the reason my husband wasn’t with me.

But that wasn’t the case, and I knew it.

It was me. He realized why I’d come back.

Laughter I didn’t feel escaped as I looked at the gas gauge.

The full gauge. Carver even had Hayes fill the tank and return my shitty car earlier than expected.

Leo was right. Carver was capable. He was capable of making me see how much I loved him and needed him, which made him even more capable of ripping that right from beneath my feet when he decided enough was enough.

He couldn’t want me. I was too damaged. Too fucked up for anyone to ever really want.

This is what I deserved.

This is what I’d done to him.

I made his heart hurt like shards of glass under my knees never would.

And it hurt to hurt him.

The pain of what I’d done dragged me through the town I’d abandoned as a teen, scouring every parking lot and store I could find.

It forced me through the streets where we grew up—so vastly different yet not so far from each other.

When those were both empty, it pulled me back to the field where we first met.

Where he’d kissed me for the first time.

The yellow flowers that should have been long forgotten by now at the edge of the field were mocking me, maintained with a plaque beside it—a dedication with the words to the girl who dreamed in fields carved into it.

But that girl was dead. My dreams were never meant to see the light of day, and my only dream now was him. It had always been him.

I fell to my knees in front of that plaque as the sun warmed my back, sobbing uncontrollably.

If he planned on coming back, and had wanted me to know everything was okay, he’d leave a note.

He’d leave a note .

The sun grew hotter along my back, scorching through the fabric of Car’s shirt. I wrapped my arms around my waist, breathing in the oak and leather as I settled into the grass.

This was it.

He was gone.

He was gone .