Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Did you see how badly he’s perspiring?” Alice asked. “Yes. He’s newly mated. The rest of the story?” She shrugged.
“They’ll know if he’s lying,” Matilda said, reaching out to pat Reese’s arm. “Erik and Sven can sense a lie a mile away.”
“What does he want them to do about it?” I asked, glancing back at the house. “Why isn’t he searching for her himself?”
“I think he has been,” Alice replied. “If the story is real, he’s been searching for her for over twenty-four hours. He smells like a damn goat, so that fits.”
“And if anyone’s watching, he led them straight here,” Reese added angrily, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Of course he did,” Matilda said, moving closer. “Everyone knows that my boys are home. He knew if he came here, he could ask for help. Our home is no secret, Reese. It just feels as if no one knows we’re here.”
We moved back to the kitchen just as my feet began to grow uncomfortable, and a few minutes later, Charlie strode into the room. The dark half-moons under his eyes seemed more pronounced than usual, but I wasn’t sure if I was a good judge anymore. Sometimes when I looked at him, I didn’t immediately notice the way grief had ravaged his body, and that scared me. It meant that my mind was starting to automatically see this new version of Charlie as normal.
“I can’t believe you have it,” he said, walking straight for Matilda. “Can I?”
“Of course,” Matilda said, giving the quilt a squeeze before handing it reverently to Charlie. “It’s yours now.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take it,” Charlie protested as his hands clenched around the fabric.
“Nonsense,” Matilda countered. “Zeke would want you to have it.”
“But you put so much work into it—”
“It was Zeke’s, and now it is yours,” she said firmly. “Have they made any headway in there?”
“I’ll be there in a minute, Mattie,” Erik called.
Reese let out a breath of a laugh as Alice looked at the kitchen clock.
“It’s getting late,” she said grimly. “The search won’t begin until tomorrow, in any case.”
“You’re right, as always,” Sven announced as he entered the room. He glanced at Charlie and then looked away.
I looked back and forth between them, wondering what that was about, when Ambrose wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“Finau is going to stay in the pool house,” Erik told Mattie as he leaned down to kiss her.
“You guys have a pool?” I looked over my shoulder at Ambrose.
“No, but it sounds less pretentious than guesthouse,” he replied. “It’s just a studio. One room and a bathroom.”
“Fancy.”
“No one was comfortable with him staying inside the house,” Beau said as he pulled Reese against his side.
“Understandable,” Alice replied. “His story is plausible?”
“He’s telling the truth,” Sven confirmed. “The boy is going out of his mind.”
Ambrose’s arms tightened around me.
No one spoke, but the silence wasn’t comfortable. It was weighted, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know why that was.
“You’re going to help him?” I asked finally.
“We have to,” Beau replied. “If not us, who?”
“If not now, when?” Danny said quietly.
“Nothing else to get done tonight,” Erik said tiredly.
The kitchen cleared out as everyone headed to their respective bedrooms. I followed Charlie as he carried Zeke’s quilt up the stairs to his room. Ambrose came along quietly, not willing to let me out of his sight.
When we reached the main room in the suite, I looked around it again. It was similar to Ambrose’s room in shape, but the way Zeke had decorated was almost the opposite. Framed movie, music, and video game posters covered the walls. The couch was short and sleek—clearly from a different era—and the rest of the furniture matched it. If it hadn’t been for the espresso machine on the counter and the modern posters, it would’ve felt like we’d stepped back in time.
“I’m exhausted,” Charlie announced as he moved toward the bedroom.
I’d heard the phrase so often that it didn’t even phase me as I followed him inside. He may be tired, but he’d slept quite a bit already, and it wouldn’t hurt him to hang with his baby sister for a while.
“I can’t believe that guy brought it back,” I said, sitting down cross-legged as Charlie lay down on the bed, clutching the quilt to his chest.
“I know,” he said softly. “He considered leaving it with me,” he mused, running his fingers back and forth over a spot mended with purple embroidery. “But he said that he hadn’t slept without it for so long that he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to.”
“What a baby,” I joked, my heart aching.
“I know, right?” Charlie let out a watery laugh. “Even I didn’t sleep with a lovey.”
“Like our parents would’ve ever let you,” I snorted. Our parents did their best. They were present at least, but they’d never been the cuddly type and hadn’t fostered it in us kids either. It was either a miracle or inevitable that Charlie and I had stayed so close as we grew up.