Whispers of You (Lost & Found #1)(43)

I glanced in the direction of dispatch. She was laser-focused as she typed on her computer. “I think everyone’s hanging in there.”

Jude followed my gaze. “Not like she’d share if there was hell inside her head.” He looked back at me. “Keep trying. She’ll never let Chris or me in the way she used to talk to you. I don’t think she opens up to Grae like that either.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the last person she’d open up to right now.”

He shook his head. “You’re wrong. It might take time, but you’re the person she needs.”

“You sound pretty certain.”

Jude shrugged. “I’ve known you both for a long time. Long enough to know that you’ve been miserable as hell without each other. I don’t want that for the people I care about. That regret will eat you up inside.”

I studied him for a moment. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

Jude’s jaw tightened. “Had something good. Let life get in the way of it. Don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Me, too.” He squeezed the back of his neck. “Don’t be an idiot like me. Fix it.”

He didn’t give me a chance to reply. He simply turned on his heel and strode out of the station.

Fix it. I didn’t have the first idea how I was supposed to do that when the woman in question could barely stand the sight of me. But I knew one thing: I’d need to stick around to have a chance in hell.





20





WREN





I trudged out of the station and into the late afternoon sun. Typically, that crisp, clean air would be enough to soothe away whatever had happened on shift. Not today.

The latest update from Seattle told us that Mr. Peterson was in serious but stable condition. How many times had he asked me to call him Albert? Too many to count. But he was forever in that teacher spot in my mind, and I couldn’t get myself to call him anything that didn’t have a Mr. before it.

When he was well enough to come home, I’d make myself call him Albert. I’d move us on from that place we’d been frozen in for so many years. That I’d been frozen in. It was time. I had to let it go. The pain. The fear. The grief. I had to if I wanted a shot at a full life.

I started toward the parking lot and my truck, but the thought of having to cook something when I got home had me changing directions and heading across the street to Dockside. A cheeseburger, french fries, and a chocolate milkshake the size of my head. There was no way that couldn’t make things better.

As I jogged across the street, my stomach tightened at the sight of the familiar figure. His head was dipped low, a scowl on his face. He looked so similar to his brother that I forced myself to smile whenever I saw Joe Sullivan. But I refused to treat him the way so many others in town did—like he was just as guilty as Randy.

“Hi, Joe.”

The teen’s head jerked up. There was a flash of something in his eyes, and then the scowl was back in place. “Hey.”

Joe lowered his head again, and I couldn’t help but turn as he passed, tracking him with my eyes. He was alone every time I saw him. I got the temptation; it was easier than wondering what your friends might be saying behind your back.

I’d had a few people that I thought I could trust probe for sordid details about the shooting, only to turn around and share them with anyone who would listen—including the press. That kind of betrayal cut deep.

But I had Grae. My gran. Kerry and Nathan. Lawson and Nash. Even Roan had my back. When he’d heard that a couple of boys were hassling me, they’d shown up the next day with black eyes and busted lips. They didn’t bother me again.

Who did Joe have? I knew his parents were basically nonexistent. And they didn’t have any other family that I knew of—and I hadn’t heard of any other friends.

A heaviness settled in my chest. I hoped that after graduation, Joe got the heck out of here and found somewhere he could start fresh and build a new life.

“Was he bothering you?”

The familiar rasp of Holt’s voice had me spinning around on the sidewalk. “What?”

“Was Joe bothering you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I was just spacing out. Long day.”

My gaze caught on the duffel slung over Holt’s shoulder. It wasn’t the small one he’d brought out of his SUV last night. This one was larger. My throat tightened as I struggled to swallow. “Going back to your life?”

Since the moment he’d shown up, I’d wanted nothing more than for Holt to leave so I could go back to the normal I’d created for myself. It was safe. But it was also slowly killing me. Like drinking a little bit of poison every day.

Seeing Holt again had reminded me of how I’d used to live. How we could find fun in the silliest and simplest things. How at peace I’d once felt. It hurt like hell to remember that, but it was so much worse to pretend that it hadn’t existed at all.

Holt’s eyes flared. “Actually, I was going to your place. I wanted to see if I could stay in your extra room.”

My heart lurched, a painful stutter step in my chest. “Why?”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I need a place to stay that isn’t run by nosy busybodies.”