Page 172 of Tied to You

“Fuck!” I wrench a hand through my hair, grabbing a handful and pulling tight. “I don’t fucking know!” I haven’t seen or spoken to her for days. The brief glance I caught earlier wasn’t long enough for her to see that I’m sorry. So fucking sorry for everything I’ve done.

“We need to find her.”

“Tell me fucking how!”Please.I can’t see straight. I can’t think.

Dean gives me what I need. The orders I need to follow. “Go home. She might have gone there first.”

I’m moving fast, my feet carrying me with so much pace I feel like my body can’t catch up with them.

“Listen to her,” I catch him saying, before I’m hanging up and starting theengine.

I steam out of the car park and onto the motorway, racing to get back to the farm. She can’t leave me. She can’t just go without giving me a chance.You blew that chance when you walked out on her.“Fuck!” I bellow, my words being carried away in the wind racing past my ears.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be how it ends.

I make it there, manoeuvring around a parked car at the top of the drive, pushing my bike to maximum speed all the way to the front door of the house I built for us. This should have been it. This should have been where I grew old with her. The place we’d forever call our own. Except, when I throw off my helmet and run up the path to the door, fiddling with the key to get it open, the house looks dead inside. Empty. A shell. There’s no love or safety, just a blank space before me.

I rush to the bedroom, seeing the bag she started packing for me, no longer there. Gone.

She’s gone.

Aimlessly, I walk to the lounge, my feet slowing to a gradual stop. Unmoving, I stare at the sofa, the cushions all a mess, the blanket strewn across the seats. She was last there, no doubt waiting for me to come home. What have I done?

Mick’s quad bike pulling up drags me from my broken state, and I move to the sofa, meaninglessly staring at it, imagining her lying there. I don’t need to check if she’s here. She isn’t. I know she isn’t. I can’t smell her. Can’t hear the telling sounds of her delicate feet walking around the house, coming to find me. Coming to tell me she loves me. Needs me.

I rub my eyes as the door swings open. “Son?”

The word rocks my resolve, and I fall to the sofa, my head landing in my open hands.

Mick stands behind me, one hand on my shoulder, physically letting me know I’m not alone. He doesn’t know that without her, I always will be. No amount of people around me will ever fill the void that once again will rule my world. The endless days of waking up without purpose, the lonely nights spent without someone loving me. That’s what lies ahead for me now.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. We… we thought we’d lost you.” Mick lets out a relieved breath, his fingers giving my shoulder a squeeze.

Lifting my head, I stare dead ahead. “You didn’t lose me.”But I lost her.

“Where’s Mollie?”

“Gone,” I reply flatly.

Mick moves around the sofa urgently. “What do you mean gone?”

“Exactly that,” I snap, standing and turning away from him. I can’t look at him. I know what comes next. Fear it. Time after time he has believed in me. I’m only going to hurt him again. Let him down in a way he knows all too well.

“Have you spoken to her?”

“I—” My lips part on a lost breath. I take a step. Stop. Stare at the envelope on the counter that shouldn’t be there. The silence ripping the air tells me what I already know. It’s from her. Her goodbye? No. Please, God, no.

Struggling to clear my vision, I swallow and blink away my sadness as I take small steps closer. I pick it up, refusing to open it with Mick here. I can’t guarantee what it will say. And I can’t guarantee how I’ll react. The mess might be too much. This clean up might just be too fucking much for him this time. “Give me a minute?” I ask him, not giving him my face.

I hear him sigh but he walks to the door, indicating he’s fully aware of what comes next. “Whatever happens, please don’t do anything stupid. I’m here if you need me, Son.”

My neck clicks. My eyes close. “Okay.” I can’t make him any promises. Not until I read what’s inside.

I wait until I can hear his quad riding away, then drag myself to the nearest chair at the breakfast bar and slump myself down. Resting my elbows on the surface, I peel it open, taking my time like I should savour it. Savour her last words.They might not be last words.

They are.

Travis,