Chance(22)

Chapter 17


I'm startled awake by a series of loud thumps. I reach for my phone wondering if I somehow managed to change the ring tone on it again. I scan the screen and see absolutely nothing other than that it's barely past seven in the morning.

It's Saturday. I don't jump from my bed as soon as the sun rises once the weekend arrives. I take my time getting my day started. I lounge in bed, sometimes reading the news on my tablet before I even think about what I want to have for breakfast. If I make it into the shower by noon, I know I'm on track for a good day. If I've had a bad week, I may hide between my sheets for the entire day, ordering in food and watching movies. Today, I need to stop by the office, so I should be thanking whatever the hell that noise was that jarred me from my dreams of a tropical island and a shirtless man bringing me an endless supply of petty drinks with umbrellas.

The thumps are there again and I realize they're coming from my apartment door. I close my eyes hoping that Graham heard it first and he's at the door, chasing away whoever thinks it's acceptable to bang on a door this early in the day.

He's not and the next louder, and more persistence, knocks are proof of that. I pull a white tank top over my head and a slip into a pair of white lace panties. I have no intention of opening the door. It's thin enough that I can carry on a conversation with whoever is on the other side. All I really need to do is tell them to scram. I'm still sleepy and craving the comfort of my bed, so I'm going to make short work of this distraction.

"What is it?" I call through the crack between the door and the doorjamb. "Who is there?"

"It's me." His voice is low and quiet. "Open the door."

I peer through the cracked glass peek hole in the door. It's Caleb. His hands are resting on the door. His shirt is a twisted and he hasn't shaved in days. He looks like hell. My hand hovers over the doorknob.

"What do you want, Caleb?" I volley back hoping that I won't have to talk face-to-face to him right now. "You woke me up."

"Bell." His voice cracks slightly. "God, I need to talk to you. Please just open it."

My breath catches at the sound of my nickname. I haven't heard it flow from his lips in years. I doubt that his voice had even gone through its adolescent change when he last said it. My lips quiver as I answer back. "What's wrong?"

"Open the door." He taps his hand softly against the wood. "Open the f*cking door. Please, just do it."

I reach down and twist the deadbolt lock so it pops open. I grasp the door handle before I turn it, pulling the door open.

I have no time to react before he slides into my apartment, yanks me into his arms and pulls me tightly into his chest.

"Caleb," I whisper into the fabric of his blue dress shirt. "What? What is it?"

He doesn't answer. His body only jerks slightly as he works to control his emotions. I try to break free to look at his face but he molds my body into his.

"Just tell me," I say calmly even though my heart is racing. "I can help if you tell me."

His body tenses slightly before he grabs my shoulders and pushes himself back. I close my eyes briefly before I look up into his.

"Bell." His voice lowers as he brushes his lips against my forehead. "Christ, please."

"What?" My bottom lip trembles. "Just say it."

"It's Asher." His eyes fill with tears. "I'm so sorry."

A slow realization pours through me and I feel one solitary tear fall down my cheek. "What about him? He's in Brussels with your mom. He told me he was going there."

"No," he says through a sob.

"No?" I try to break free of his grasp. I pull him so far forward that he reaches back to slam my apartment door closed with his foot.

"He's not in Brussels." His grip tightens on my arm. "He never went there. I've been trying to find him for days."

"Where is he?" I point towards the window. "We can go find him."

"We can't." His hand leaves my shoulder and jumps to his chest. "He's gone, Bell."

"No," I say louder. "He's not. Don't say that."

"It's the truth." He swallows hard as he says the words. "They found a body this morning in a hotel on the lower East Side. There were drugs in the room."

"No," I scream the word so loud that it bounces off the walls of the almost barren apartment. "No."

"I have to go identify him." His eyes close. "I need you to come with me. Please, Rowan, come with me."

I lean forward to rest my head on his chin as I nod slowly. "I'll go. I know it's not him. Asher wouldn't do this to us. You'll see."





Chapter 18


We haven't spoken a word to each other since we left the morgue. We also haven't let go of one another's hands since the stretcher with the body was brought towards us. When the woman in charge pulled down the sheet, Caleb had gasped. I'd stood next to him stoic and silent.

"I don't want to go home," he says as much to me as to the driver of the car. He'd called one of the company's drivers into action when the police had called him. "Take us back to Rowan's apartment."