Page 21 of Make Me Feel Again

The thing is, Rylee doesn’t know how amazing she is, and that’s what makes her even more special. The guilt has hit me more over the past two months than it ever has done. I wasn’t lying when I said she was my light because now that she’s not here, my life has been hell—one deep pitch-black hole I can’t get myself out of.

Boh and Bridge have been asking why Rylee is staying away from me, what I did wrong, why am I reacting the way I am. I just grunt at them; they never get much of an answer out of me. I know I can’t tell them the truth. They will hate me and will never look at me the same. No one will, but when I’m with her, none of that matters. It’s just her.

It’s her birthday tomorrow morning, and I don’t care what she says, or about these fucking rules of her staying away, I’m seeing her whether she likes it or not. I have something for her, and I want to be there when she opens it. I keep trying to find out odd things from Bridge. I don’t bother with Boh; he’s been distant with me, and I don’t know why.

I asked Bridge, but she said he has just generally been like that. I text Toni a couple of times, but she only gives me few-word answers. She called me once and said no matter how much information I try and get out of her, she won’t give in and to just give Rylee space. Fucking space. I have given her two fucking months of space. I hired a private investigator; the police aren’t doing enough, but this private investigator came highly recommended and has found absolutely fuck all. Not a thing. No trace of James. There is no trace of him from when he was younger, he magically appeared in the systems when he was eighteen. Something isn’t right with him, and I plan to find out what it is.

“Rylee.” My voice echoes through her apartment. There is no reply, no sound. You could hear a pin drop in here with how quiet it is. I was always coming here today, but it’s the first morning in two months I haven’t received my morning text from her. Even on days she slept in, I always had it by 10:00 a.m. It’s now midday, and I tried calling, but the phone keeps going to voicemail.

“Rylee,” I shout louder this time, but there is still nothing. I pop my head into the dining room and then walk down the hallway to check her bedroom. I would knock, but her door is wide open, the bed is untouched. Her en suite door is also wide open. Nothing seems out of sorts. Maybe she’s out, but something doesn’t feel right, the house feels empty like no one has been here for a while.

I take hesitant steps toward Jace’s office. The last time I was in here was with Rylee when I was drunk—the night I confessed what a fuck up I am. I take a deep breath before placing my hand on the knob, knowing the flood of guilt that will wash through me when I enter this room. A sigh leaves my lips when the handle doesn’t move—the door is locked.

I walk back to the living room and get my phone out before dropping down on the sofa. I glance up at the shelf that Jace’s picture sits on but it’s not there. I draw my eyebrows together. I focus on the spot before running my gaze along the other shelves, but it’s not there. I know Rylee, and she wouldn’t remove that picture. What the fuck is going on? My heart rate kicks up. I dial Toni’s number. I don’t want to ring Bridget about Rylee; she will only panic and be over here within seconds. We promised Rylee wouldn’t go anywhere on her own while that piece of shit is still out there.

“Cash,” Toni answers, panicked. Dread washes over me like a tidal wave as my stomach turns.

“Toni, where is she?” I demand, not trying to let my voice crack with how sick I feel right now.

“Sh-she text me saying she needed time to herself and that she would be safe.” She sniffles. “Where the fuck could she have gone, Cash, surely nowhere is safe with that maniac on the loose.” She sobs down the phone. I know how much of an effect this has had on all of us. She was hit hard when Rylee was taken. They have this unbreakable bond, like when one is in pain, the other feels it too.

“Okay, breathe, Toni. I need you to think. You know her better than anyone. Think!” I shout out the last part, trying not to let my temper get the best of me. It’s not Toni’s fault, but the thought of anyone hurting Rylee makes my heart ache.

“Cash,” Toni cries out, “I really don’t know. Let me ring Rachel, she may know something, I’ll call you back.” She hangs up before I can reply.

I chuck my phone back on the sofa, tug my hair, and take a deep breath.C’mon, Cash, think.Where would she go that is safe?I rack my brain, but the panic is taking over and won’t let me think straight.

“Fuck!” I fall to the sofa and let my head drop in my hands. I know I need to ring Boh and Bridge, but the minute I do, the reality kicks in that she’s out there on her own thinking she is safe, when nowhere is safe. What part of this doesn’t she understand?

I stand up, pacing again, my eyes land on a beautiful portrait of a beach in Brazil, with a quote in bold writing that says, “The beach is cheaper than therapy.” Jace bought it for her a couple of years back. Rylee has always loved the beach, according to Jace. It was where she was when she was taken. She always said to Jace, “If you’re ever stressed or sad, just go to the beach.” I smile. He started going on his own, but also sometimes with Rylee. It was their thing; they loved the beach and the sea. My eyes bug out as it dawns on me—the vacation. I grab my phone, knowing who will know the location of the beach house.

Chapter nineteen

Rylee

Waves—myfavoritesound.Thatis all I hear when I wake from my broken sleep, but I can’t quite bring myself to open my eyes yet. If I keep them closed, I can create this false sense of reality. It all feels so peaceful and weightless. I want to live in this forever, like there are no worries in the world and everything in life is perfect. I open my eyes, knowing this will come crashing down, and reality will settle in thick and fast.

Staring at the ceiling, ice fills my veins, and the sound of the waves blurs into the background. There is no warmth next to me, I am alone—just me and my thoughts. I glance around at the white walls and baby-blue furniture. It’s all meant to be light, fresh, and happy, but has the opposite effect. The large patio doors are open to the sand and sea. I can’t appreciate the beauty of it because everything seems dull. Like there is a black-and-white filter on my vision. I shouldn’t have come here, but I thought it would make me feel something. If anything, I’m worse, and the guilt comes rushing back because all I can think about is Cash.

Letting out a long breath, I roll to my side and slip out of bed, with a weight on my shoulders, and my whole body aches. I have no idea why because I have done absolutely nothing since I got here yesterday. I pad to the kitchen on bare feet, welcoming the ice-cold tiles, and head straight for the fridge. My stomach has been growling since yesterday when I picked at the food on the plane, but I haven’t had an appetite. I have this horrible taste in my mouth that no amount of water or toothpaste will get rid of, so I need to eat something.

I open the fridge and see all the fresh food along with platters of fresh fruit. A maid comes each day, according to the lady who let me in and handed me over the keys, to stock up the food. Jace went all out with this place. I put some melon, strawberries, and grapes into a bowl and add some plain Greek yogurt on top and head to the terrace to look out to sea. I take a deep breath and take my first bite, and honestly, I thought this would taste like cardboard, but the flavors are exploding in my mouth, and it’s delicious. Maybe this will make me feel something, food always used to make me happy . . . among other things.

Cash’s face appears in my head. I have gone to call him at least five times since being here but stopped myself each time because I know the minute I hear his voice, I will cave. I head back into the kitchen and place the bowl in the fridge; maybe I will try again later. I’m tired, even though all I have done is sleep, but being asleep is much better than being awake at the moment. At least in my dreams I’m happy—I’m the old Rylee. I head back to the bedroom and slip back into bed. My body gets heavy and I drift off, then his beautiful face appears.

I hear knocking, but it seems far away; I’m not sure what it is but my body is too exhausted to care right now. The knocking gets louder and more aggressive, then I bolt up and realize it is the villa door. I glance over at the clock and it’s past noon, but the maid comes around 3:00 p.m. and has a key. Maybe she came early and forgot it.

I make my way to the door, but I dread having to speak to her. Opening the door, the first things I see are trainers. Men’s trainers. I look up and gasp at the set of ocean-blue eyes staring right at me—the same color eyes I fell in love with all those years ago.

“Hi, Rylee.”

I suck in a sharp breath, not believing who is standing in front of me.

“Cash.” I look him up and down to make sure what I’m seeing is real. He’s here in front of me, in Tulum.

“Wha-what are you doing here?”

His eyes zone in on mine, squinting. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snaps through gritted teeth, raising one eyebrow at me.

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