Page 106 of Love Me Dangerous

Linnie hasn’t taken riding lessons there since she was eight years old. “Why would she be out there?”

Dad reverses out of the parking space, twisting in his seat to look through the back window, his salt-and-pepper stubble catching the early morning light.

Rumble Creek Riders is east of town. On the way to Morning Star Road.

I dig out my phone and call Zach.

“Hey, sorry about—” Zach’s tone has a weird edge to it, but I ignore the anguish stirring to life inside me.

“Have you seen Linnie?” I say in a rush. “Has she come out there?” I hold my breath.

Dad pauses at the exit from the hospital, his gaze flicking from me to the road ahead. Turning left will take us toward home. Turning right, we’ll head toward the Huttons.

“No, but Henry and I left early,” Zach says. “What’s wrong?”

“Maybe nothing.” I realize how stupid it was to call him. To open myself to him when I’m slowly unraveling.

“Bullshit. Talk to me, Sofie.”

The tone he’s using now is completely different. It makes me bristle, but it cuts through the hurt. “I think she’s upset. She may have taken Jesse’s dirt bike.”

“Where are you?”

“The hospital.”

If he’s curious about why, it’s not evident in his voice. “Let me call you back.”

Zach hangs up.

Dad turns right. “Would she go to the Huttons?”

“Maybe. I think Zach’s going to check with Barb.”

“We at least know she went past Rumble Creek. Let’s see if we can pick up her trail.”

“Okay.”

My phone rings.

It’s Zach. “Barb hasn’t seen her or heard a bike go past.”

The last of my hope withers to a painful ache. “Thanks.”

I’m about to hang up when Zach says, “We’re coming to help.”

The ache burns hotter, making me feel prickly. Angry. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Where are you headed?”

The logical side of my brain takes over. Whatever my feelings, denying Zach and Henry’s help is stupid and petty. “There’s a place called Rumble Creek Riders. Linnie went past it thirty minutes ago. She did horse camp there every summer.”

“See you there.” He hangs up before I can protest.

Dad accelerates, his grip on the wheel so tight that the little scars on his knuckles are bright white. I look away as that anguish stirs tighter like a twist of the knife.

Just paying homage to your battle scars, Zach had said, his lips so soft.

Is that why he shut me down? I finally pushed him too far? Forced him to reveal too much?

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