Page 88 of Between Dusk and Dawn

Maybe after all this, after tonight, I could see myself loving him. Maybe if he promised me a little more freedom, a little chance at something new, he’d give it to me.

He dialed the number, then while speaking to whoever, he looked up at me to get confirmation I still wanted him in the room. Offering only a slight nod, I pulled the overstuffed comforter up to my nose. Its scent enveloped me—musk and linen intertwined. With one more deep inhale, I let the fragrance lull me into sleep, a respite from the tumultuous emotions swirling within.

In the midstof a dream or that limbo state between wakefulness and being deeply entrenched in slumber, Walsh's voice reached me, urgent and hushed, stirring me from my restful state. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what woke me, but there he was, standing by the bedroom window.

He looked so fucking edible with one hand on the window and the other shaking out his hair. He’d put on a pair of gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt. The casual look surprised me. I was so used to seeing him constantly put together. Whatever call he was on, though, was stressing him out. His eyebrows scrunched as he listened, and I had to pull myself up a little to see his jaw ticking.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I struggled to get my bearings in the dimly lit room. "Are you okay?" I rasped, my voice still hoarse from waking up.

Worry etched across his features, his hands ruffling through his hair as he turned into the room. His deep gaze bore into me. It seemed to be the early hours of the morning, with dawn imminent. I refrained from rolling over to check the clock, opting to remain in the moment.

"Go back to bed, Madison," Walsh uttered, covering the speaker of the phone. I nodded, slipping back beneath the comfort of the overstuffed blanket. Truthfully, I was far too exhausted to argue with him, and still drowsy. Although I intended to respect his privacy, curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the muffled conversation.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Walsh continued his hushed conversation by the window. Shadows danced on the walls, and the dim light of dawn began to filter through thecream curtains. My senses heightened, and every creak of the floorboards echoed in the silent room.

Through the thin barrier of Walsh's hand, I caught snippets of dialogue that raised more questions than answers. "I don't care if the Irish are upset. It's not my problem…Canceled their holiday plans? Well, that's not my concern. I'm here with my wife…No, I'm not with Cairn. I'm here with Madison."

The gravity in Walsh's voice hinted at frustration with whoever he was talking to. The muffled tone of the voice on the other end conveyed urgency and insistence, creating an unspoken tension that hung in the air.

As I lay there, the heaviness of the conversation weighed on me. The relationship dynamics hinted at by those few words sparked an array of emotions: confusion, concern, and a twinge of something resembling fear.

The conversation continued, yet I couldn’t piece together what I’d heard. While my logical mind tried to piece together the information, another part of me was fixated on the name "Cairn." It sounded so familiar, yet elusive memories danced just out of reach. Where had I heard that name before? The mystery deepened, leaving me with more questions than answers.

"I’ll come to bed soon, Muse. Close your eyes."

I didn't realize Walsh could still see me, so I gave him the faintest of smiles. He stared back at me with a look that I’d forever etch into my memories. His deep eyes filled with a longing so achingly soft. The circles beneath shared a story of exhaustion that only I could see. He was so devastatingly handsome, broken down in so many ways, I knew what I had to do. I decided when morning came, I would tell him how I felt.

"I need to head into the barn and grab something, I’ll be right back," he whispered, dropping down to give me a kiss on the cheek before leaving. The warmth of the bed and the comforting presence. The mysterious name and the cryptic conversationslowly faded into the background as fatigue claimed me once again.

With a final sigh, I surrendered to the drowsiness that beckoned, embracing the familiarity of Walsh's presence and the promise of a few more hours of rest. The events of the night and the early morning gradually slipped away, leaving me to sink into the soft embrace of slumber, where dreams held neither the weight of reality nor the enigma of unanswered questions.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The morning light poured through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, yet an uneasy feeling lingered. As I stirred awake, the rhythmic sounds of Fire's distressed neighing penetrated my consciousness. An immediate sense of urgency settled over me, intensified by the absence of Walsh. The covers lay undisturbed, suggesting he hadn't returned to bed last night.

Shit, where did he say he was going? To his office? I shot out of bed, on a mission to find him as Fire continued to neigh in the barn. I was a novice horse owner, but this noise seemed very different.

I peeped my head out the window for a minute before trying to open it, but it was sealed shut.

"Bulletproof glass," I whispered. Why I hadn’t realized that until now was beyond me. "I am coming, Fire."

The caretaker had fed her and taken her out a few times a day, so she wasn’t starving, maybe she somehow sensed that I was home.

"Who am I?" I asked as I pulled on one of Walsh’s plain black T-shirts and slowly turned the handle to head downstairs to check on Walsh. The material was thin enough it pulledagainst my sensitive nipples. It was Christmas, but when I got into the hallway, the house felt otherwise quiet. Ms. Luchesse wasn’t mixing something downstairs. No guards fussed about outside, which was evident by the lack of boots crunching on the snow. It all felt…odd, and yet I couldn’t put a finger on what was wrong about anything, I just knew it wasn’t right. Christmas morning should have been filled with warmth and festive cheer, but instead, an unsettling quietude gripped the house, casting a shadow over the holiday.

Driven by an increasing sense of urgency and the need for answers, I decided to head toward Walsh's upstairs office first. The palm reader recognized me just as it had last time, and the door silently slid open. The sleek, modern room looked exactly as it had when I first discovered it.

However, as I entered, a disconcerting sight greeted me. The usually active surveillance monitors displayed only static. Every camera feed seemed to have been deliberately turned off. It was an eerie sight, the absence of those watchful eyes that had tracked my every move, leaving me with an unsettling sense of vulnerability.

To rationalize the sudden lapse in security, I reasoned that perhaps it was the holiday spirit that had temporarily muted the usually omnipresent surveillance system. The idea that, maybe since I’d returned from Isles, there was no need for the cameras to scrutinize my every action felt oddly comforting. After all, Walsh had won me over, and I was here willingly this time.

As I sifted through the contents of Walsh's office, my gaze fell upon a neatly arranged desk, the computer screen reflecting nothing but a dark void. The air in the room hung heavy with the anticipation of discovering some hidden truth.

I scrutinized every inch of the room, searching for any clues that might shed light on Walsh's whereabouts or thepeculiar circumstances. Drawers opened and closed, papers were shuffled, but no answers presented themselves.

Frustration and worry intensified as I realized that the more I searched, the less I seemed to know, but I wasn’t going to panic. He was probably downstairs, still working. There would always be that piece in Walsh, the hard-working leader who never wanted to be, but was molded into the role he was in.

As I descended the staircase, a palpable sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach. My footsteps echoed through the grand hallway, and the emptiness of the mansion intensified the eerie atmosphere that hung in the air.

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