Chasing River (Burying Water #3)(21)

Aside from a few brief hi’s and ’byes as he wanders past the camera during my Skype calls with Alex, I haven’t really talked with my brother since I left. And the last time we spoke in person, a week before I hopped a plane to Vancouver, it ended in an epic fight. Jesse’s friend Luke Boone had come by with another car for Jesse to fix up and flip. I told Jesse that I thought he was an idiot for still associating with that guy and he needed to cut him off. Luke may look like the perfect package—money, good looks, impeccable grooming—but by the bits of information I’ve been able to piece together, he’s also one of the reasons Jesse got into that spectacular mess back in Portland. Of course, that’s all a lot of speculation because no one will tell me shit.

Despite the wedge that’s grown between me and my twin brother, I do care about him, which is why I said what I did. He didn’t appreciate it, though, deciding it was the right time to lay my own faults and bad choices on the table. Apparently, I spend too much time worrying about what everyone else thinks, and maybe I should look at my own group of friends because they’re all a bunch of stuck-up bitches and they’ve made me a judgmental snob. But that wasn’t enough. He had to lay into this trip, too. I’m going to waste all this money to figure out there’s no big miracle waiting for me out there, that I actually like my comfortable little town and my comfortable little life, and that I won’t be happy being a tadpole in an ocean.

I stormed off then, with tears burning in my eyes. Not because he was so wrong, but because I was afraid he might be right.

“Yeah. It’s been great.” Maybe one day I’ll tell Jesse the truth about my morning in St. Stephen’s Green. Of anyone in my family, he’d be the only one who didn’t care that I lied.

“Good.” There’s a long pause and, while I know I won’t get an apology out of him over some of the things he said, I can feel it lingering there. “When’d you have your wallet last?”

I think back to my day. After the tea shop and the discovery of that T-shirt, I wandered around Dublin city center, deciding what I’d say if I saw the guy again. When I finally accepted that I had to try and find him, I hopped in a cab. So I know I had my wallet when I arrived at Delaney’s because I paid for the ride, but I don’t know if I left with it, seeing as I didn’t pay for my beer.

“I was at a pub,” I say, half-heartedly.

“Crowded?”

“Yeah.” I lost count how many times I was bumped into.

“That’s probably where someone lifted it. I’m sure you stuck out like a tourist who may have money.”

I definitely stuck out . . .

“Call them. Forget about your cash. It’s long gone. But the person probably ditched everything else. It’s worth a shot.”

“Good idea. Thanks, Jesse.” I hang up. A bubble of nerves erupts in my stomach as I search for the number. It’s ten at night and probably still busy. I don’t expect anyone to answer.

That’s why I’m surprised—and caught tongue-tied for a moment—when a man’s voice fills the receiver with, “Delaney’s.”

Is it River? It sounds like him. “Hi . . . I was there a few hours ago and I lost my wallet.”

“Lost it?” the guy repeats with his Irish brogue. Raucous music and clanking glassware compete in the background.

“Stolen, probably. I know it’s not likely, but is there any chance someone turned it in to the bar?”

“They haven’t. But I can keep an ear out. Where can we ring ya if it turns up?”

I give him my cell phone number. Thank God for my international plan and Simon’s WiFi; otherwise this trip would be two months instead of four. “My name’s Amber.” I hesitate. “River knows me.” Sort of.

“The pretty American bird who made my brother spill a pint, is that you?”

My face heats up, and I’m so glad that I’m alone in my kitchen and not in front of this guy. He must be the other bartender. I thought they looked related.

He chuckles, not waiting for my answer. “I’ll let him know you rang.”

I hang up the phone and exhale heavily.

Maybe they’ll find it.

Maybe I’ll have an excuse to see River again.

Nervous excitement grows inside me.

SEVEN

River

“This can’t wait?”

I ignore a hovering Rowen, my eyes glued to the computer monitor. And Amber, her slender back to the security camera as she sits perched on her stool, her long, shapely legs crossed at the ankles. Sipping the Guinness I handed her. I’ve already played back our entire exchange—the shock on my face when our eyes met was priceless. As was the tantrum Rowen just threw in our cramped office, watching the replay of me dumping the pint down the drain.

“I wish I hadn’t said anything until closing,” he finally mutters. “I need you out front.”

“I’m glad you told me. If I find out one of our customers lifted that girl’s wallet, and they’re still here, they’re going to wish they weren’t,” I mutter with cold determination, stewing in the anger that exploded earlier, when Rowen nudged me and told me that Amber had been robbed today. As if almost being blown up isn’t bad enough.

“How do you know her, anyway?”