Page 22 of Lost in the Moonlight

She sighed, palming her necklace again, and this time, I saw the charm was actually a class ring. Masculine and oversized. Jealousy flooded my veins. She belonged to someone? Where was he? Why wasn’t he here defending her? I wanted to hunt him down and demand answers.

When she still hesitated, I growled, “What time, Willow?”

“If I don’t go to the cemetery, I leave the house at two-thirty.” She breathed it out, letting go of the ring. I barely resisted the urge to grab it and discover who it belonged to before it hit me that it might have belonged to her father. The man she’d lost.

The intensity of my own reaction to her, bouncing from anger to jealousy to desire to laughter, made me feel like I was finally losing my sanity. As if I’d finally collapsed from sleeplessness into a dream world that would never again reach a solid shore.

And that, more than anything, had me giving her a curt nod and striding out the door, hoping to break the tenacious grip she’d sunk into me.

Except, as I walked down the path toward her gate, the string that had seemed to bind us only grew tauter, pushing at my Adam’s apple until my breath was rocky and uneven. And I knew, with a painful certainty, it wouldn’t release until I’d found myself at her side once more.

Chapter Eight

Lincoln

KEEP ON WANTING

Performed by The Fray

Once I’d let myself into myhouse, I headed straight for the study still battling the intensity of emotions flooding me. At the desk, I opened the security system software on my laptop that was linked to both my phone and computer. The cameras gave me a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the outside of my property with no obstructed views.

I played with the angles of the ones out front until the gate and the front of Willow’s cottage came into view. It wasn’t good enough. What I really wanted was an unobstructed three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view ofherproperty. But if I demanded cameras be added, she’d likely think I was a door with a missing hinge. I wasn’t her friend, her boyfriend, or a relative.

I was a stranger who’d shown up at a bad time. My behavior was borderline obsessive at this point, especially considering how short of a time I’d known her.

I meant nothing to her. She meant nothing to me.

Except, the knot at my throat disagreed. The fact that it was there, tugging and tightening, was almost as troubling as the idea of Poco showing up in the middle of the night when I couldn’t see him.

I closed the security app and opened my email to find a flurry of messages from Mom. The subject line of the top one read,If you don’t answer your phone today, I’m sending Hardy.

Shit.

I slammed the laptop shut and jogged up the stairs to my bedroom. The phone was right where I’d left it, charging on the nightstand. When I picked it up, I had twenty text notifications. It wasn’t the worst I’d ever found, but it was enough to make me grimace.

Katerina’s was at the top, begging me to answer Mom once again. I groaned as I realized I hadn’t sent the message I’d intended to. I’d gotten sidetracked with cardboard and cemeteries and Willow. I shot off a note saying I was responding right now.

I debated texting before wondering if Mom knew what was eating at my sister. Talking would be easier.

“The lost boy awakes,” Mom answered in a tease that barely covered the worry.

“Just because I’m not tied to my phone like it’s a body part the way Katerina is, doesn’t mean I’ve disappeared off the face of the planet.” It was an old argument. Even with the enormous things that had happened to me, even when I’d lost myself to alcohol for weeks, or been in a haze of sleeping pills that made me forget, I’d never been suicidal. That would have been the easy way out.

I’d needed the pain of existing in order to earn my penance.

“It’s a mother’s prerogative to worry aboutallher children,” she said.

“Like Katerina? What’s the deal with her these days?”

Mom hesitated for a beat. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with Katerina?”

Well, hell. Now, I’d just given her something else to worry about instead of easing her mind. I tried to cover up my mistake with Katerina’s own words. “I suppose she’s just working too hard.”

“Hollywood is almost as bad as politics,” Mom said with a sigh. “It can eat your soul if you’re not careful. I’m seeing her soon, so I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

That meant I’d be getting an irritated message from my sister about siccing Mom on her.

“Where are you today?” I asked, hoping she’d forget all about our conversation.

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