Help Me Remember (Rose Canyon, #1)(93)

She shakes her head quickly and grumbles. “He was being perfectly nice.”

“He also lied, kissed you, failed to show up at Isaac’s funeral, and is a fucking asshole. So, I’m sorry I wasn’t nice to him. Next time, when we’re not out in the middle of the city, I’ll be nicer.”

“What does us being in Portland have anything to do with you being nice?” Brielle asks, looking around.

“I just would like us to go.”

“And I would like to know what you’re keeping from me.”

This woman is going to be the death of me. “Quinn is in Portland as well. Okay? He’s here, and I think we should go home.”

Brielle purses her lips with her arms over her chest. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” she repeats. “I will not live my life like this. I spent how many weeks feeling unsafe? I do not have a dress for our party, and I am going into that store.”

Seriously. I count to five, which does very little for my exasperation, and then start again.

In that time, Brielle decides that she’s not going to wait and marches off. I follow like the lovesick puppy I am, and spend the next three minutes trying to figure out what to say to mend this. I am glad she’s not scared, but I also hate this entire thing.

“I’m going to try these on,” she informs me. Then she kisses my cheek. “I love you.”

And there goes all my anger. Just like that. “I love you too.”

“Good. Now, wait here, and I’ll come out once I’m ready.”

I take a seat on a pink tufted couch and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

She didn’t look like she had that much—

I’m on my feet and striding toward the fitting rooms, ignoring the woman behind the counter who is yelling at me. I throw open the door of the changing room, fully expecting Brielle to chide me for being ridiculous.

Only she’s not inside.

Nothing is here.

The clothes she was going to try on are on the hanger, but there’s no girl to try them on.

“Brielle!” I yell, moving toward the back entrance. It’s open, and I don’t stop until I’m standing in the middle of the alley, searching for any trace of her.

She’s fucking gone.





Chapter Thirty-Five





BRIELLE





My heart is pounding so hard I feel like it’ll burst through my chest, but I had no choice. He left me a note, and I needed to come here.

Myles is an innocent child, and I am a grown adult. I just have to hope that Spencer found the clues I left.

I know there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever allow me to go through with this on my own. He would never put me in harm’s way. I love him for that, but I also know that this little boy is afraid, and I promised I would protect him months ago.

I failed him once, and I won’t do that again.

I have no idea what name they could be under, so I go to the front desk and ask if there’s a Bill or Sonya Waugh staying.

“No, I’m sorry, we don’t have anyone here under that last name.”

I think hard, trying to remember, and then it hits me. She and Bill weren’t married when they had Myles and his last name is Eastwood. If law enforcement is looking for him, it would make sense to use her maiden name.

“What about the last name Eastwood?”

The hotel—or really motel—is the exact place to hide. It’s old, the carpets are the 90s style with red and gold that is worn. There is a vending machine over in the corner and I am pretty sure they rent rooms by the hour.

It’s the perfect place to go if you don’t want to be found. The girl looks in her computer. “No, ma’am, I’m sorry, I don’t have anyone by that name here.”

“I’m her sister, and . . . she said she was here. She has a little boy named Myles. The man she’s with, he has dark brown hair, and he’s a—” I pause as urgency claws at my stomach. “He’s horrible. I just need to find her and get her away from him.”

The girl looks back to the monitor, going through the bookings again. “I don’t . . . I’m really not.”

I lean in. “I know you’re not allowed and that it’s probably against policy, but I’m terrified for her. She isn’t here willingly, and I got a message from Myles. I just . . . I need to help. Please.”

I may not be her sister, but I’m still terrified for Sonya and Myles. I’m hoping that Sonya has been able to keep them both relatively safe, but I already know there is only so much she can do. When he told me what his father was doing to them, I cried. No child should endure the pain that he has, and Sonya is one of the nicest people. Neither of them deserves what Bill has put them through.

I should’ve filed that paperwork without giving her a warning. I should’ve never let him leave the center that day at all.

The front desk clerk sighs. “I can help you, but . . . I can’t tell you anything. If you happened upon that information . . .”

“Whatever you can do, I appreciate.”

She jerks her head to the right, and I follow her into an area marked for employees only. “If you’re willing to become staff, there are lists of the names on some of the housekeeping carts.”