Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Nash. I’ll fight this. I promise. I—”
“Yeah. Sure. I know,” he says, but he sounds off, like he’s saying the words but doesn’t mean them. Nash walks around the table to Sadie, kneels beside her. “Hey, Sades. It’s gonna be fine. You heard James. I’m not going anywhere. He’s gonna make sure I get to stay here with you, okay?” he soothes.
She throws her arms around him, and Nash holds her, runs his hand up and down her back as she cries, telling her it’ll be okay. That no one can take him away from her. That they’ve been through too much together and nothing can pull them apart now.
But it’s clear he doesn’t believe it. He’s resigned to the fact that nothing good lasts, that he’ll lose the only family he’s ever known. He reminds me so much of myself, of the similar feelings I’ve had.
The mood is somber after that. I try to talk to Nash, but he says he’s fine. That he trusts me. That he knows everything will be okay. Colton tries too but doesn’t have any more luck than I do.
“He’ll be okay,” Colton says when we’re in bed together that night. “We’ll prove him wrong. We won’t let them take him away from us.”
I nod, but for the first time since I met him, I don’t believe Colton.
I can’t sleep all night. I’m still awake when Sadie shoves through the door the next morning, frantic, eyes wide, and crying.
“James! Nash is gone!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
James
Colton and I shoot out of bed. We’re dressed and have slept with the door unlocked. It hadn’t felt right for anything else. I wanted to be accessible if either of the kids needed me.
“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Colton asks, but I’m already heading out of the bedroom and toward theirs. I don’t know why, why I have to see for myself, but I do.
The door is open, light on, Nash’s bed empty, blankets pulled up so it’s neatly made. Nash made his bed. Despite how many times I’ve asked him to, Nash has never made his bed. A sharp pang lands in my chest, tears stinging my eyes as I lean against the wall, looking at it.
Nash is gone.
Nash made his bed and left.
His phone is on the nightstand, so I rush over to it, but of course it’s locked. “Do you know his code?” I ask Sadie.
“No.”
“I found this.” Colton holds up a piece of paper. “It was on the kitchen counter.”
He hands it to me, my eyes blurry as I scan it.
James,
Please take care of Sadie. She deserves that, and I’m sure it’ll be a lot easier without me here. I can’t go with him. I won’t. Make sure Sadie knows I love her. I wouldn’t leave her with anyone but you.
Thanks, for everything.
Nash
I pull the note close to my chest, trying to control my breathing. The spiraling starts, making my insides feel like they’re in a blender, but I fight through it, do my best to shove all that down.
Later. I can lose it later.
Right now, all that matters is Nash.
And Sadie.
I go to her, kneel in front of her. Hold her little scared face in my hands. “We’ll find him. We’ll find him and bring him home. No one will take him away from us, okay?”
“Okay.” She nods, then wraps her arms around me. I stand and lift her, holding Sadie to me while she cries.
Colton looks at us, his heart in his eyes, close enough to support us but giving us space.
Sadie stays close to me, like she’s afraid to leave my side, while I call the police and our caseworker. Colton calls his mom, who promises to get ahold of Dakota and Hannah, and before I know it, my living room is filled with people, police officers and our family—because that’s what they are to me now. My family. They’re all here to support us, to do whatever we need to bring Nash home.
“You were here with him, sir?” one of the officers asks Colton.
“Yes.”
“And you are…”
Colton’s gaze flicks to me, and I answer, “My partner. He’s my partner.”
The officer takes Colton’s name and information, all part of the missing person’s report for Nash. They leave with a promise to look for him and ask us to call them if he reaches out. Our caseworker came, as well. I’d had to call her too. Having to go through letting them know worries me, makes me worry they’re going to think I’m not good enough to take care of him.
My heart hasn’t slowed its beating all morning. It’s tight, hard to breathe, but again, I shove that aside.
“I know you don’t feel like it, but you should probably eat something, sweetheart.” Christine rubs my back, just wanting to support me, in a way Sandra had never done.