Page 36 of Something Like Sugar (Pine Forest Something #2)

DUSTIN

P ercussion. That’s what it feels like.

Heart bouncing and feet scrambling up steps, two at a time.

Then three.

The elevator was taking too long. This is now.

She is forever.

I can’t take back the things I’ve done. The secrets I’ve kept from her. The past, where I hid in corners to catch a glimpse of her light, or current, where I withheld vital information regarding her studio, despite knowing all she wanted was my integrity and honesty.

But for the first time since I was a child, using my father of all people as a compass, I know what to do.

If he can atone, so can I.

Each passing moment I’m with her, my tinted view of the world…of what could be, is forced to the light.

Shana Holiday does that, a song with a body.

A body with a soul.

One that fits perfectly with mine.

And that’s exactly what I’ll tell her when I see her. That I never want to be apart, and the only fight I want to be in, is the one for our future.

I reach the twelfth-floor master suite, Business Elite’s Finest across the door on a golden plaque, and I take a deep breath before I knock.

Nothing.

Knock.

My hand raps against the door, harder this time, but again, nothing.

My pulse picks up, barely having slowed at all from my ascent to the highest tower in the tallest building.

But there’s no princess here to save.

Reluctance be damned, I pry the key card from my back pocket. I don’t want to bust in on her if she prefers to be alone. But then, the thought of her falling asleep crying…tears streaking her pillows from the unrest of earlier—that thought stabs me.

If she’s asleep, I’ll lie beside her.

We can talk in the morning, when she’s ready.

Hell, I’ll let her deck me as hard as I did Lawrence, curse me if she needs it. A sad smile crosses my face with that thought, shy little Shay with a swear word on her lips, and the love I have for her fills me with confidence. Not in myself, but in our relationship.

Our mutual, unconditional love.

I turn the handle, hopeful this will all work out. I’ve never been so sure about a thing in my life, but I’ll fix this.

We need each other.

I push open the door, but the breath I’m holding is yanked from my lungs.

Not with what I see…but who I don’t .

I scan the room, but it doesn’t make sense. If she’d run off to the restaurant or bar after the fight, sure, but her dress is draped across the bed, the very one she wore downstairs only minutes ago. Her earrings sit fresh on the nightstand.

My brow crinkles as I process it’s barely been twenty minutes since the incident downstairs. Not nearly enough time for her to change and vanish without crossing paths on the way up.

Unless she took the elevator.

It’s the only way I’d have missed her.

I grab the keycard I’ve placed on the dresser and pluck an apology flower from the hospitality bouquet, but my breath wooshes away like I’ve been kicked when my eyes drop to the floor to see Shana’s phone cracked and wedged between the fire extinguisher and the wall, by the exit.

My throat tightens as I bend down to pick it up, hands shaking. Something doesn’t sit right.

We fought, yes , but Shana’s not the type to be irrational. To run off and leave her phone behind, wandering alone on the boardwalk at 11 p.m., let alone shoveling her way through massive convention crowds in the hotel restaurant or bar.

I slide open her phone, entering 5678 and unlocking the screen.

Second time my therapist’s been wrong about my creeping on her being unhelpful, and even though I want to smile at that, at how the girl of my dreams and hopes became the girl who hoped and dreamed for me right back, worry is all I can feel or think.

Where is she? And why is her phone still here?

Her home screen lights up with texts and missed calls.

Seventeen of them.

I’m not sure what’s going on, but Lemon’s been desperately trying to reach her for the last ten minutes, so I dial back from Shana’s phone, immediately putting it on speaker.

If something happened to her father, maybe she left too fast to realize she dropped her phone.

But the car keys are still in my duffle. How would she have driven? The name on the screen eases me only slightly, and all I can do is pray they’re together.

“Oh, thank God you’re all right!” Lemon shouts in hysterics. “I was about to start calling Dustin. Don’t fucking do that to me, okay?”

She’s not with Lemon.

It’s not about her father.

Terror streaks through my mind.

Blood.

Tears.

“Fuck! Lem. This is Dustin. Where is Shana?”

“What?” Lemon’s voice cracks. “She’s…she’s not with you? She was going to find you, but her phone cut out, and she…Dustin, she screamed!”

“ When? Where was she going?”

“To you! She was coming to see you, but—I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“Tell me.”

“She was… shit! ”

“Lemon Perkins, you tell me whatever the fuck you know, do you hear me? Her phone was by the door cracked and—Lem, I fucked up.”

“She was going where you told her in the note, but then she screamed out of nowhere! Don’t fuck with me, Dustin, is she with you or not?”

Impatience forces its way through my lungs until I’m growling into the phone, swiping it on video. “What note? I didn’t leave a note.” I circle the room with the phone to show her I see nothing by the bedside.

Lemon rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Well, I guess not, stalker. You leave her so many you can’t keep up with them.” Her eyes widen at something on the bed behind me. “Check her purse! That’s where she keeps them.”

“Lem—”

The words crumble on my tongue.

Lemon’s brow pinches over the screen as she takes in the confusion that must be plastered over my face. My heart threatens to pound clear out of my chest, my body is weak, my throat is tight.

I dump the contents of my girl’s purse frantically, through shaking arms and swirling vision.

I cannot breathe.

“What the fuck are these?”

Every hair on my body stands on end, pins and needles stabbing me from the inside out, as dozens of folded football papers spill onto the bed from the bag. One note is unfolded and crisp, penned on hotel parchment.

Lemon squints at me like I’ve lost my mind. “The creepy notes you leave her. You know, like the one with the plant? I’m watching and See you soon. That kinky watcher-shit you two do.”

Fear claws at my senses, because it can’t be…what I’m reading on this paper…

“Lemon, I’ve never sent her any notes.”

My eyes fill with dread, tears falling, desperate for answers as I tear through the other folded bits of things I didn’t write.

Undress for me tonight.

I clench my teeth and turn my horrified eyes to Lemon’s. “The only note I ever left her was with the plant. Everything else was through Flinger.”

Flinger.

My mind swarms with memories, clues hidden right in my face, and my eyes drop to a note on the bed. One with a pull tab that I yank open to find a sickening moment in time, stolen from her. From me. From our relationship . And with one look at the typed signature on this note, I know the thief too.

Dance for me tonight at your window. XO, Love of your Life.

L.L.

“Lawrence Lawson.”

“Oh my God!” Lemon shrieks. “Jeremy, call the police!” she shouts, turning her trembling face back to mine on the screen. “Go to the place on the note but be careful! Turn on your location, and…and I’ll give my phone to the police to track you! It’s our fastest bet.”

“It’s not far,” I mumble, already locating the note. “I know where he’s taken her. I’ll call as soon as I know something.”

“Wait!” Lemon chews her lip, heavy eyes set on mine. “I shouldn’t be the one to tell you, but…” She swallows, terrified eyes piercing mine. “She’s in more danger than you know.”