Page 4

CHAPTER ONE

T here is a knot in my gut that I can’t ignore. I feel it, burning inside me, but I have to know the truth. With each mile that disappears behind me, along with each word that comes out of my buddies’ mouths, I can’t kick the feeling that this time is real. The anticipation is suffocating as I close in on what I hope is correct information. Each bit of news over the last three-plus years hasn’t made my heart race like this piece did. Maybe because this was a picture. A real-life picture of Audrina Hawkins in the flesh as she slung plates of hash browns and bacon.

I knew it was her.

I’d know her anywhere, which is why it frustrates the living hell out of me that she’s been gone for more than three years. I know her inside and out, and yet, I haven’t been able to find her. She didn’t go to her regular “veg out” spots. She hasn’t used her credit cards, deleted all social media, dumped her phone, and disappeared. It was the most insane thing and so out of character for her. She loves our families, she loves my sister, yet she just left. At one point, I was convinced she’d been kidnapped, but in my heart, I knew she’d run.

From me.

And it’s my job to bring her home.

I glance up at the visor where her letter to me sits.

Thirteen words.

Including her name and mine, but not together as we should be.

I sigh deeply as my heart aches. When the text came through, I didn’t even think. I called my buddy and asked him if he could ride with me. I may be a little bitch for not being able to go alone, but I needed someone to be beside me. Banks Tellerman—or Telly, as we call him—is always down to ride. We’ve been roommates for the season and have grown close. He’s a goofy dude, built like an ox, with dark hair and eyes but the brightest, whitest smile I’ve ever seen. He’s my buddy, but he’ll never be what Audrina is.

Or was.

Damn it.

This is about to be a full-on clusterfuck.

I should have forwarded the information to her parents and let them handle it. She ran because of me, so the fact that I am under the impression that I am going to waltz into this diner and bring her home should have me seeking professional help. Audrina isn’t the type to be told what to do. She cut off all contact for a reason.

Me.

Everything escalated so damn fast. One moment, she was there, and the next…gone. No trace. No clues left behind, just three letters. I honestly don’t get it. Sure, I didn’t say the nicest things and I was a complete jackass, but taking off seems like such an extreme response. We have gotten in fights before—hell, we grew up together. Our birthdays are the same day. The reason her parents met her was because they came to visit me in the hospital and heard her birth mom had just left behind a little girl. Audrina’s mom, Anya, couldn’t have kids, and with one look at Audrina in a crib beside me, she was in love. That’s the effect of Audrina, though. She’s stunning and charming, and when she’s loved, she blooms right before your eyes. Her eyes widen, her sooty lashes flutter, and her lips curve into a knockout of a grin.

Audrina Hawkins is the reason I realized girls were way more fun to look at than hockey sticks.

I was twelve, at one of my AA hockey games for my travel team, and I even held my favorite stick in my hand as I made it across the ice after a break. I looked up into the stands for my mom, to find that Audrina was sitting with her. She was wearing my Junior Flyers hoodie, that I had left with my mom, over her ice-skating dress. Her tights were black, her leg warmers to her knees, and with a knit cap pulled low on her forehead, framing her hazel-colored eyes, I became bewitched. It was as if I was seeing her for the first time.

And like the songs all say, everything changed.

The next couple of weeks, I fell fully and overwhelmingly in love with Audrina.

My best friend.

The girl who lived next door.

The girl everyone thought was my sister since we spent so much time together.

Because I never told her I loved her.

Or anyone, for that matter.

I sigh deeply as I finally pull into my destination. I drove above the speed limit, fully pissed off that we were lied to as kids. My parents made me watch The Jetsons . “It’s a classic, Thatcher.” Sure, Mom, but it’s all lies because I’m not flying in a space car. Instead, I drove like a normal person for six hours to see if I am right about the photo in my inbox. My skin is tingling, my heart is pounding, and my head is floating with the knowledge that I could be seeing her in mere minutes.

Finally.

The Red Ruby Diner is sleek for a highway diner. I’m used to seeing diners like this a bit broken-down, but this one is refurbished with bright reds and glittery silvers. It’s a rather sizeable establishment for the middle of nowhere, and it’s packed to the brim. The menu is expertly lit on a stand outside, making it easy for me to see everything they offer. The windows are large and clear, everything inside so clean and put together. It’s plain to see the place is taken care of. I just hope she’s been taken care of. If anything has happened to her, I may lose my fucking mind.

I just want to see her.

“Red Ruby? Should be called the IceCats with these colors,” Owen Adler says with a grin. I hadn’t expected him to join us, but apparently his very pregnant wife is very pissed off that one of her plants died. Owen needed an escape and was in my car almost before I pulled up to their house.

“But we are in Virginia. Do they even have a hockey team here?”

“Not pro,” Owen says as he shuts the door behind him. “I doubt we’ll be getting free food.”

Little does he know, I don’t give a shit about food, only about seeing the girl who, after only a few hours of her being gone, had me realizing that half of my soul was missing.

Telly grumbles. “Fine, but you’re paying, Orlov, since no one here knows who we are.”

I ignore him as I exhale, pulling my cap down lower. They’re used to me hiding my identity since I hate being noticed when we go out. They love it and preen at all the people who want autographs and photos. For me, I just want to play hockey. I don’t want the attention, the sponsorships, and all that hoopla. I want to wake up, hit the ice, score some goals, and bring home the Cup. I have been raised to do just that. Our team, the Carolina IceCats, has been close to that Cup so many years. But even I know this season is different.

I’m not gonna outright say or think it, but things are going well for us.

And I feel a piece of hardware is in our future.

Our new GM has made some big moves and taken the NHL by storm. Not only is she only the second woman to take a position in the higher-ups, but she can make a grown man cry. Olive Vandalia is ruthless and cutthroat. She is a bulldog in a 5’2” package, with whiskey eyes and curves for days. She’s a stunner, for sure, and Telly has such a hard-on for her. She won’t give him the time of day, and really, I don’t blame her. Let’s win the Cup, and then he can dick her down.

If she doesn’t cut his dick off first.

Or trade him for making moves on her.

As I push my dark glasses up my nose, Telly steps up beside me. “We drove six hours for this?”

I didn’t have to give a reason for the road trip at first, but even I know I have to come up with something now. It’s a battle, when all I can think is that she could be anywhere near here. That I’m finally breathing the same air as her once again. Ignoring the tightening in my chest, I clear my throat. “They have Dutch babies here I wanted to try.”

My confession doesn’t come as a surprise to my friends. I am a huge foodie. I love trying all kinds of different dishes, and I’ve been known to make impromptu trips just to try something I’ve read about. I have a list of places I want to eat at when we go on road trips. It used to be fun, but when Audrina vanished, I used it as an excuse to look for her everywhere I went. We share a love of food, she and I, and I had this rosy idea that she’d be in some hole-in-the-wall spot.

Waiting for me.

But she never was, and I have no one to blame but myself.

While I do want to try the Dutch baby, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stomach it.

Owen shrugs. “I love pancakes, especially when they are thicker.” He waggles his brows. “I’m a lover of all things thicker. Have you seen my wife lately? All swollen with my kid? Jesus Christ on a cracker, it’s hard to keep my hands off her.” Telly chuckles as Owen bites his knuckle.

“Let her find out the plant died because you knocked it over with your bag, and she’ll never touch you again,” I tease, and his eyes go wide.

His brows shoot up and his face blanches. “Bro, what the hell? I thought we were friends.”

I send him a grin as he punches my shoulder before I lock the doors to my black Range Rover and make sure my glasses are covering my eyes.

Telly sends me a curious look. “Bro, no one is going to know it’s you here in the backwoods of Virginia.”

She will, and I need a moment to drink her in before I approach her.

I ignore him as we head inside, and I direct us to a back booth where I can watch the door to see when she comes in. My PI couldn’t get her address, and the only reason he got the photo was because he stopped to eat here. When he tried to question the staff, no one would give him any information. He came here for three days trying to get some intel, but she would show up for her shift and then disappear. She didn’t drive up; she just appeared. Looking around, I assume there is an upper floor to the diner, and I wonder how the PI didn’t notice that.

How much am I paying this dude?

I check my phone again, looking at the address of the diner along with the photo of her.

It has to be her.

This has to be over with.

I’m unable to do this anymore.

A petite waitress comes over, and Telly is all over her. He has her blushing and promising him the best Dutch baby in the state before she basically skips away.

“I love women,” he mutters as he leans back in the booth, his brown eyes full of mischief.

“Wait till you find the one. It’s like Christmas morning every day,” Owen says with a knowing grin.

Happy sap.

“Okay, Owen. We all know you’re in love and happy. Stop trying to domesticate us,” Telly accuses. “I am a feral tomcat—let me roam.”

“More a feral raccoon,” I add despite my nerves, though my lips even curve up of their own accord. I’m glad the guys came, but I’m not ready for them to know why we’re here. Owen knows Audrina, and while Telly knows of her, only our families know she has run away, cutting off all of us. Everyone knows we had a falling-out, some witnessed it, so it’s easy to explain her absence.

But I’m done explaining it. I want her home.

I swallow hard as I keep my gaze on the door and along the back counter, where I notice a stairwell leading up. I have the urge to go up it, to see if that’s where she is hiding.

But I don’t have to.

The revolving door at the entrance flies open, and there she is.

My whole body goes on alert. My armpits sting, my stomach drops, and breathing…fuck, it’s not an option. All I can do is stare at her.

Audrina Maria Hawkins.

Her hair is almost black, unlike the strawberry-blond she’s had since birth, but still, she’s put it in her “get shit done” style. It’s up in a wild bun of wavy locks with a pencil in the knot. She always wore her contacts before, but from the photo, I know she is wearing glasses now. Thick ones that I’m sure she hopes hide those hazel eyes of hers and her lush lashes. Audrina has always been a natural kind of girl, but no matter the amount of makeup she’s used to cover every inch of her freckles, I know it’s her. I have spent years memorizing everything about her. The plumpness of her lips, the curve of her Cupid’s bow. The little turn up of her dainty nose. How her left eye slants more than her right. How she has the most perfect beauty mark right where a nose ring could be. She has freckles over her brows, along the top of her lip, hell everywhere.

At one time, I had counted over one hundred and twenty-three freckles on her sweet face. My biggest regret besides the one about her running off is that I never counted the ones along her shoulders, her chest, her stomach. No. Instead, I acted a fucking fool, and she took off.

Damn it.

It’s her.

I can’t move.

Or even speak.

All I can do is stare and wonder how the hell I’m going to convince her to come home.

To her family.

To me.