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SOUNDTRACK: Smoke by Willyecho

~ SAM ~

Leaving her the next morning was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. My mind kept coming up with ways to delay it, plans for lying, hiding, doing all the things that were only going to make this situation worse.

I waited until the last possible moment, but in the end, I knew Monk needed his car to get to work.

We hadn’t slept all night, so I stopped talking to her about five thirty and sure enough she fell asleep pretty quick.

Then I used every sick, stalkerish skill I’d ever developed to slip out of that bed, out of that room, out of that house without waking her. I was a coward, I knew. But the idea of seeing her eyes when I said goodbye… God, forgive me, it would tear me apart. And I had to get out of the house before it was light and people would be able to see inside the car.

So I loved her, and listened to her, and held her, and loved her again, all night. I let her sleep, and then I left, grateful for my friend who’d made it possible.

Apart from benign messages to keep our watchers from becoming suspicious, we’d agreed to go back to the burner phones—I was afraid of slipping up and talking about seeing her, or something that could get us in real trouble. She’d gotten out of bed long enough to plug hers in to charge so we could use it the next day.

When I got home, I sent her a text telling her I was there safe and to message me when she woke up.

But when I woke at three that afternoon, she still hadn’t texted.

That gave me a niggle, but then I remembered we had the pre-trial hearing the next day and she was supposed to meet with her lawyers that afternoon. She’d probably been running late. I’d wait until dinner. She’d be done by then.

Except dinner came and went without a call or text.

I looked at the calendar again, but there were no other meetings or commitments on hers. Unless she’d forgotten to add something to the calendar we shared on the burner phones.

By seven o’clock, I was getting very nervous, and cursing myself for leaving without saying goodbye. It was how I’d done it last time, but maybe it made her mad? She was already struggling. I should have thought that through.

I sent her a text acknowledging that and pleading with her to tell me she was okay.

Still nothing.

I was scared enough to leave a voicemail—we tried not to do that since it left a bigger digital trail. But I didn’t say anything important. Not even her name. Just told her to call me. But when I hung up the call, there was nothing.

By nine I was genuinely worried.

She was so angry about me checking in on her father. But she’d forgiven me, she said. She was tired and shaky, but so happy I was there.

Wasn’t she?

When she woke up alone, had she got in her own head and decided that this wasn’t going to work?

I didn’t think she would… but I’d thought she’d be grateful I found info on her dad, too, so…

As the night wore on I grew more and more agitated, until I wasn’t even laying down. I couldn’t. My head spun. I was texting her every half hour, and tried two more times to call. The phone rang, but went through to voicemail without answer .

We kept the phones completely silent, so it was possible she wasn’t looking at it and didn’t know I was calling… but I didn’t believe it.

She was in bad shape. It was the whole reason I’d risked going over there.

Shit.

Shit.

If we hadn’t had that pre-trial hearing—nothing but a show and sit, as my lawyers called it—I would have taken the risk of going back. But if she was angry, I’d only make it worse by forcing her to talk. So I made myself stay in my house and sleep. But I tossed and turned until dawn, then got up and texted her again, swearing when she didn’t respond.

I was early for meeting my lawyers to go to the Courthouse, and impatient with them to get us there.

The moment we walked into that sterile room, I searched every seat and face, but there was only a handful of people there outside the staff. And Bridget wasn’t one of them.

Her attorneys were though.

When the Judge entered and Bridget still hadn’t arrived, my heart was in my throat and my hands shook.

I wanted to scream when her lawyers told the Judge she was unwell and couldn’t attend.

Was she sick?

Did she need me?

I was freaking out. So agitated and tense that I didn’t hear a damn word that was said during those motions.

Then we left and I panicked. She hadn’t shown. She wasn’t going to. And I didn’t know why.

I was her fucking husband and I didn’t know where she was. But those smug assholes on the other side of the aisle did.

As we walked out of the courtroom, ahead of us in the hallway I saw Jeremy peel off from their legal team and push into one of the public bathrooms. Thank God my lawyers were too busy talking about the motions to notice.

When we drew level with that door, I told them I needed a minute and pushed the bathroom door open before they’d even answered.

Jeremy was just leaving the urinal when I walked in .

For second, in my head, I was back in prison, scanning a bathroom for possible threats, keeping my back to the wall, my body humming with adrenaline.

Jeremy didn’t look up when I walked in, but when he turned towards the sink, he caught sight of me and froze for half a beat, before trying to act like he hadn’t been taken off-guard and taking the last steps to the sink.

“If you wanted to compare weapons, you’re out of luck. I have a concealed carry license,” he muttered, turning on the water at the sink to wash his hands, but his eyes stayed on me in the mirror.

“Where is she?” I said without preamble.

Jeremy huffed. “You don’t get to know that.” He shook his hands then walked to the dispenser for a paper towel

Pride and rage roared in my chest. But I knew how bad this could go if I did it wrong, so I made myself swallow my pride and just locked eyes with him when he turned to face me.

“If you don’t know, then fucking wake up. She’s struggling. Bad. She could be in very real danger. You don’t have to tell me what she’s told you, but you fucking find her and make sure she’s not getting hurt.”

Jeremy’s face was stoic, expressionless. “I’m not worried.”

I narrowed my eyes. “All those big words about protecting her and being her friend? She’s not sick. She’s out of her mind. And you’re just going to leave her hanging out to dry because you don’t care enough to find her?”

Jeremy’s lips tipped up on one side. “Who said anything about not caring? You’re just not in the know, you piece of shit.”

“I don’t give two fucks what you think you know—”

Jeremy’s hand snapped into his suit jacket where I was sure he gripped a weapon. I froze.

“Listen, idiot,” he ground out. “You don’t know her. I do. I’ve known her since she was a kid. She always disappears at this time of year. A few weeks later, she comes back. We knew it was going to happen and we’re handling the fallout. For her.”

I blinked, staring at him, head spinning. Was he telling the truth? Would she have just left without talking to me about it?

She was struggling.

She was angry.

She knew I wouldn’t be coming back to visit for a while .

It tracked.

Shit.

Jeremy shook his head, but strode towards me then reached for the door behind me. “Sucks being out of control, and out of the know when you care about someone, doesn’t it?” he muttered as he passed me, then walked out.

And dammit… it did.

But it sucked more that he knew that.