Page 242 of Tell Me Something True

“True. But I don’t think I did.”

He hesitated, not wanting to admit how badly he’d fucked up before. How afraid he was of doing it again.

But that was his pride talking. Trying to protect itself.

And he was done listening to that fucker.

The only way he’d have a chance at the future he wanted, of becoming the man he wanted to be, was to stop letting fear control him. He’d taken a step in the right direction earlier by talking to Urban about his anxiety and his guilt over their parents’ accident.

Time to take another one.

“When Tabitha and I were together before, I went too fast. I pushed her to give me everything—her thoughts and feelings and truths—while I kept mine to myself. I used my feelings for her as a way to hide from my pain and grief.” He met Kat’s suspicious, narrowed gaze. “But I’m not doing that now. I trust her. Tabitha knows all my secrets. All my fears. And if she doesn’t, if she’s doubting that or my feelings for her, all I want is a chance to try and convince her. That’s all. I just need to know she’s okay. If you’ve seen or talked to her—”

“I haven’t.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed his forehead. Opened his eyes and dropped his hand, trying to swallow his disappointment. “If you do—”

“I didn’t talk to her.”

He froze, his cop instincts picking up the hesitance in her tone and the subtle softening of her expression. “But you saw her?”

She crossed her arms, her lips pursed.

Then nodded slowly. “About an hour and a half ago.”

He sank back against the seat. Thank Christ. She was okay. She was safe.

Or at least, she had been an hour and a half ago.

But his cop brain and his worries wouldn’t let it rest and he went straight into interrogation mode. “She was alone?”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing at the time? Did you notice anything about her behavior that seemed out of the ordinary?”

“I was in the living room listening to your nephew tell me all his many excuses as to why he still hadn’t showered yet when I glanced out the window and saw her walking toward the driveway. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Except…”

His heart picked up speed. Fuck, he didn’t like the sound of that. Her hesitation.

Or the compassion in her dark eyes.

“Except?”

She glanced down at the road. And when she lifted her head, that sympathy in her eyes had turned to downright pity. “Except she was carrying two large garbage bags that looked to be full. But she didn’t take them to the garbage cans, she put them into the front seat of her car. And when she drove past, I could see her car was packed with more bags along with boxes and totes.”

He shook his head. No. No. It wasn’t what he was thinking. What Kat was inferring.

It wasn’t.

It couldn’t be.

He didn’t even realize he’d gotten out of his car and was running across the street until Kat yelled his name.

He picked up speed, was going so fast that when he rounded the corner of the house, he slid on the damp grass and went down hard on one knee, but a moment later he was back up on his feet and racing toward the door.

It was unlocked.

It was unlocked when Tabitha always, always kept it, and her apartment door, locked.

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