Page 112 of Full Mountie

Beth

Lachlan’s not sleeping.

Neither am I, though.

Hugh’s missing, in more ways than one. There’s a two-hundred-pound hole on his side of the bed, and we slept through his decision to leave.

He left a note with a single line on it.

I need some space.

He’s been gone for at least three hours. Lachlan tore out the door when we woke up and found the note, but it’s anyone’s guess where he headed, and he’s not replying to our text messages. After our first attempts to call him were ignored, he turned off his phone.

So now we lie here.

“Go to sleep,” I whisper against his back.

He rolls over, spreading his arms wide, and I tuck in beside him. My heart aches, because I know Hugh didn’t head out into the night for some alone time.

I replay the conversation Hugh and I had while dancing at the wedding. I should have picked up on it sooner.

“I want to be up in case he comes back and needs to talk,” he says.

“He’s not coming back,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

“Don’t say that,” he says roughly. I bite my lip and he squeezes me tight. “Shit. Fuck.”

Hot tears press against my eyelids and I burrow tighter. This is all my fault.

“He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine.” There’s so much grit in Lachlan’s voice, it scrapes against my skin. He might not be able to cry, but I can. I’ll cry for both of us.

My phone wakesme up a few hours later, and I scramble for it, heart pounding because in my sleep-deprived state, I think it might be Hugh texting back.

It’s just my alarm, telling me to take my pill.

I roll out of bed and go to my bag. I press my thumb against the bubble pack and pop the little pill out. Four days until my period arrives. I’d been so stoked about the perfect timing, that I wouldn’t need to take two packs back-to-back to make sure sexy times could continue unaffected.

Turns out I only had the one night to worry about.

I tuck the pack away and drag myself into the bathroom for some water.

The giant claw foot tub calls to me, so I nudge the door shut so as not to wake Lachlan, and turn on the water. I take my pill, then dump some shampoo under the tap.

Emergency bubble bath.

It’ll do.

A quiet knock on the door tells me I did a shit job of not waking up Lachlan. “Come in.”

He pokes his head around the door. “Morning.”

He looks as miserable as I feel. “Want to take a bubble bath with me?”

“How about I make coffee instead?”

I nod. “Okay.”

He comes back ten minutes later with a tray of food and a wooden stand to put it on, and we eat breakfast like that, me in the tub, him leaning back against the sink, sipping his coffee.

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