“I can’t, Maeve. You don’t understand. What we have isn’t something that can ever piss off. It’s different.” I think for the first time I might understand because what I have with Lincoln is so special. Also, in the same breath, Lincoln would never do me dirty over and over and over like Stavros.
“What do you want me to do? Tell me then.”
She looks like a wounded animal with her cheeks full of food. “I needed my best friend. For strength.”
“Strength to do what exactly?”
“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know. I didn’t want to be by myself when I see him for the first time. I think that’s it.”
Chonk barks, and I put it off as him chasing squirrels. He hates squirrels more than anything else on the planet. Hates that he can’t catch them, that is. She’s shoving more food into her mouth, so I move around her to clean up the kitchen and pack Turner’s lunch. I hear his electric toothbrush turn on and know he’s almost finished getting ready for the day. He does the same things, in the same order, every day. I can appreciate a kid with a plan, plus, it reminds me of myself as a child. Controlling all the things I could control.
To distract Ramona, I show her the lighthouse necklace. As a creative person and diehard romantic, she swoons. “I can’t believe he gave you such a thoughtful gift,” she says.
“I know,” I sigh out dreamily. I then tell her how long ago he bought it, when I was still deciding what I wanted out of the relationship. She swoons even harder this time, except now she apologizes for the wine night when she was asking hard questions with a firm upper lip.
“I was only leery because Stavros always manages to cock things up. It never occurred to me that some men might not mess up so consistently,” she explains after she swallows the bite.
“I read the email,” I whisper. “This morning. Right before you got here.”
As she turns to face me, her eyes widen. “What did it say?”
“As expected, it was sad and insightful.”
“Please tell me you’re going to let me read it, Maeve. This is huge. Big. Enormous.”
“He gave me some life rules,” I say, shrugging. “And told me that I’m enough.”
Ramona huffs. “I tell you you’re enough every single day.”
“But I’ve never had a romantic relationship with you.”
Rolling her eyes, she finally pushes the plate away. “We could have, but you weren’t experimental back in college.”
Chonk barks again, but stops short. Maybe he caught a damn squirrel. Good for the good boy.
I chuckle, reaching up to grab the necklace. “I’m done being mad and sad. This is me moving on,” I announce, but then hear the door creak open downstairs, and my train of thought vanishes as Chonk hobbles up the stairs. He’s trailing blood. His head looks wrong. I gasp and stoop when I see he’s missing an ear. Blood pulsing down the side of his face and trickling on the hardwood.
“Ramona,” I say. “Go into Turner’s room and lock the door. Take your phone and call 9-1-1. Keep him in there.” I kneel next to my dog. “Keep Turner in that room!”
I grab a white dish towel and hold it to the gaping wound, and bile rises up my throat. “He could have gotten tangled in something. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll text you the vet’s number and we’ll get him all fixed up,” Ramona says.
I order her back to Turner’s room, and this time she goes. Even if she calls 9-1-1 this second, it’s going to take them a while to get to my house.
Standing, I walk slowly to the stairwell and peer down at the open door. Chonk whines and follows me. “Stay, baby,” I say, comforting the dog. He’s limping, too. This wasn’t Chonk getting caught in something. The cartel cuts off ears as warnings. I grab the cheap burner phone Lincoln gave me and call him. I dry heave when I recognize the ring from his burner phone echoing inside the room. His phone is on the counter. He forgot it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LINCOLN
Whoever was here, isn’t anymore. The construction site is empty and there’re no clues to be found. Rufio cleaned up after himself well. He must not be on drugs. Usually the minions are forced to stay stone-cold sober for incidences such as this. “It’s clean,” I say, feeling an odd sense of hesitation.
“Go back home and wait,” Isaac replies. “He waits for her to leave for work, and then follows her, using back roads. We’ll pin him first thing this morning. It’s going to be over soon.” The wind rips around us, making me shiver. I didn’t have enough time to grab a jacket, so I’m cold down to the bone.
Rubbing my hands together, I agree to the plan and run back to my truck and start the downhill trek back to Maeve’s house. The road isn’t finished, so it’s icy in some parts and I have to tap my brakes to keep from sliding, which is only scary when you realize one side is completely open to a cliff, the mountains beyond that. I crank the heat and look at my passenger seat to grab my phone to call Maeve and tell her I’m on my way back to her, but it’s slow going, except my phone isn’t there.
“Fuck,” I say, slamming my hand on the steering wheel. I was distracted and forgot it. My nerves are shot and I hope to God, Isaac is correct and this is about to be over. My back tires get squirrelly and I let the truck fix itself, by steering into the slide. This is not ideal. No, it’s the fucking worst. Rufio is waiting somewhere to follow Maeve and I’m crawling back to her, literally. You’ll do her no good burnt to a crisp on the side of a cliff, I tell myself.
Several tedious minutes
