Page 116 of Catch and Release

He’d meant it when he told Willa he’d give her regards to the chef.

That chef was Tucker. He’d had his own restaurant for a few years, and his seafood was the best in the entire county. When he called Tuck that morning to see if he could whip up some food for their date, he enthusiastically agreed.

“The date went great,” Shawn said. “Perfect, actually. Better than I could’ve dreamed. And she loved your food, Tuck.”

“‘Course she did,” he responded with a smirk.

“But then we got back to her house and her ex was there. And she asked me to leave so she could talk to him.”

Hanna frowned. “And you haven’t heard from her since then?”

Shawn shook his head. “Called her a bunch. Left a voicemail.”

“Well, we’re here, bud,” Tucker said. “All night and all day tomorrow if you need us.”

“Thanks, man,” Shawn said, only now realizing Hanna and Tucker were still in their pajamas.

“Why don’t you go find a vending machine and get us some snacks, babe?” Hanna said, her hand gently rubbing Shawn’s back as she directed her question toward Tucker.

“Sure thing.”

Willa didn’t bother calling Shawn back.

Not when it would take time away from her actually getting to him.

She plugged the hospital into her phone’s map, hopped in the car, and gunned it.

Shawn didn’t need empty words. He needed her there. And she felt like the absolute worst girlfriend for not being there. For missing this.

If he’d still have her, that is.

She tried to bury that worry and focus on finding Shawn. Luckily, small town hospitals were more compact and easier to navigate. She asked someone about Ida Gray immediately upon walking in and was directed to the ER waiting room.

She bustled down a long hallway until she saw the waiting room come into view.

And she came to a stop.

Shawn—still clad in his outfit from their date—was laying his head on the shoulder of a short brunette. One of her arms was stretched around his back, and her other hand was in his. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he’d been crying.

Willa wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and hold him.

To tell him she was sorry.

To explain why she had to ask him to leave.

To promise him that she was here—that she was his.

And yet, her eyes settled on where their hands were connected.

Willa’s heart was pounding so loud she could hear it.

Her stomach dropped, thinking back to that treacherous day when she saw Leo out with his wife.

But what she felt now—instead of clarity of thought and the desire for revenge—was utter despair.

Sadness, unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

Anxiety and fear, manifesting in the form of nausea and light-headedness.

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