Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
It still smelled like the last time I was here—pine, damp wood, and faintly of whatever wild animal had claimed the space between visits.
“I’m getting one of these,” Ira gasped with wonder as he stepped inside. “I don’t care if it doesn’t have plumbing. This is heaven.”
I chuckled weakly as he helped me out of the chair and onto the couch—layering the cushions with the blanket from the truck and two of the pillows from where Webb had left them last time. He fussed like a man used to caring for people, and I let him, too tired and too sore to argue.
“You’re not going to make me climb the stairs, are you?” I asked with mock dread.
“Absolutely not. You’re on the ground floor. Me? I’m claiming the loft like a raccoon in a treehouse.”
Once I was settled and he’d gone upstairs, the cabin felt even quieter than I remembered. Outside, the soft hum of insects drifted through the air, and above me, the floorboards creaked gently as Ira moved back and forth. My body ached from the trip, every muscle throbbing, but it was the kind of pain I could live with—a dull, manageable hum that paled in comparison to the heavier ache in my chest.
Without thinking, I reached for my phone, but my hand stopped mid-motion. Right, no phone.
The last time I’d been here, I’d kept my phone off to avoid being traced—and nothing had changed. I needed to stay invisible again, off the grid and out of reach. But God, I missed Webb. I missed his voice, his warmth, and the steady calm he carried with him. There was a quiet certainty in his presence that made me feel grounded, even when everything around me was falling apart.
Somewhere in the silence, Ira’s words drifted back to me. “Are you in love with him, or do you love him?”
I wasn’t sure I’d known the difference either. But now, lying in this tiny cabin with aching limbs and no idea what tomorrow would bring, I tried to sort it out.
Loving Webb felt like safety. Like knowing I could fall and someone would catch me.
Being in love with him felt like fire in the marrow. Like wanting to be known, right down to the deepest part of who I am. It felt like missing him in a place that wasn’t just emotional—it was physical. Like every part of me was stretched thin because he wasn’t near.
I wanted both.
I closed my eyes, still trying to form a plan. Ira had given me my meds before we left—just enough to take the edge off—and now they were kicking in, softening the edges of everything.
The pain eased, and so did the panic. And before I could think anymore, I drifted into sleep to the sound of bayou frogs singing somewhere nearby.
Chapter 29
Webb
We were still glued to the screens when my phone rang again—Eddie’s name flashing across it.
I snatched it up, my heart instantly kicking into overdrive, pounding faster with a rush of adrenaline I couldn’t stop. “Eddie?”
“She’s gone,” he answered bluntly, his voice low and tight. “Ira, too. Neither of them is in the hospital, and the nurses are losing their minds. The doctors are freaking out because a patient with a skull fracture is missing from her bed.”
For half a second, the world tilted on its axis. Gone?
I forced myself to stay calm so I could think. “Was Gabby stable the last time you checked?”
“She was resting. Her vitals were steady, and she was sound asleep. I only stepped away for five minutes—to deal with a guy who’d been lingering too long outside the ICU. But when I got back…she was gone.”
Across the room, Malcolm, who was still perched with his laptop on the dining table like it was a throne, raised his hand. “Uh...don’t panic.”
The rest of the room froze. Those damned words naturally meant we all instantly panicked.
“What?” I barked.
Malcolm kept typing, fast and loose, eyes flickering over lines of stolen data. “I hacked her medical records.”
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Marcus made a strangled sound. “You what?”
“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Malcolm snapped, waving a hand. “You wanted answers, I got ‘em. No HIPAA rules apply when it's a family crisis.”
Even Benny leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised high enough to disappear under his messy hair.
Malcolm ignored them and kept going. “She was scheduled to be moved out of the ICU tomorrow morning. According to the records, she was stable. The last MRI showed no new bleeding, no signs of pressure or complications.”
Relief punched me square in the chest—but it didn’t last long.
“There’s something else.” Malcolm’s fingers tapped in a blur. “There’s a withdrawal logged in the pharmacy inventory under her account. But it’s weird, it wasn’t a nurse pulling it the normal way—it’s a flagged transaction.”