Page 28 of Wanted

“How long is she staying?” Lee asks.

“Tomorrow. She has a concussion and is supposed to rest.”

His brows knit together. “And after that?”

And after that, she’ll leave. I’ll go back to living my quiet life while also trying to forget about the woman who knows exactly how to push my buttons. I blink once, heavily, as the image of her wearing nothing but my tee shirt assaults my mind. Blood surges south. A fist restricts my hand from palming the front of my jeans.

“It’s not any of my business. I assume she’ll find her way home.”

The sound of an engine rumbling to life cuts off Lee’s reply. His attention locks on the staircase.

“Expecting someone else?”

“Nope.”

We listen silently a second longer as the sound dampens with distance.

“Sounds like they’re leaving,” Lee remarks.

“Fucking hell,” I growl. Long strides eat up the staircase two stairs at a time. The dogs arouse from my volatile energy, pacing and whining at my approach. I throw open the front door as the taillights on my van disappear around the bend in my driveway.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Lee nudges my shoulder and swings his keys around his finger. “C’mon. We can catch up.”

But I’m distracted. My mind works to replay the past twenty-four hours as I bounce my gaze around the kitchen. The spot on the island where I left my keys is bare except for a piece of paper. The watch that I took off when I washed up this morning is missing, too.

I stalk toward the note written in a tight, dainty scrawl.

Thank you.

And I’m sorry.

Find your van in town. I’ll park it in a safe place.

-Frankie

Below her signature is a damn good doodle of Ashe. The little hairs nearly jump off the page of the realistic style drawing. Her talent is as unique as the rest of her.

I can’t help but wonder if the drawing was a parting gift. Or maybe a visual of her hesitance. Did she stand in my kitchen and debate her options with pen in hand before deciding to swipe my keys and take off?

“Jude?” Lee calls from the doorway.

I carefully fold and pocket the piece of paper.

“Coming.”

“I’ll wait here.” Juniper lifts his ball cap to kiss Lee’s cheek and pats his backside on his way out the door. “I can start work early.”

“See you later.” Lee kisses his woman with a passion that diminishes the urgency of this matter.

I’m out the door before he’s finished, moving forward despite the numbers hurtling through my head. My family views me as abundantly patient, but it’s my condition that affords me the facade. They don’t know that when I’m quiet, I’m counting.

“Any idea where she’s going?” He leaps into his truck and cranks the engine.

“Somewhere in town.”

Lee races his truck down the driveway. Gravel kicks up beneath the speeding tires.

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