Page 65 of Wrecked for Love
At the shelter, I found Mr. Gunn crouching beside a Siamese cat, animatedly muttering something about finding it a new home. As soon as he noticed me, he shoved the cat back into the enclosure and stood.
“What do you want?” His gruff tone hit me. So much for Claire changing him.
“I’m looking for Claire,” I said, holding his gaze.
His eyes narrowed like he was sizing me up. “She’s gone.”
“What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“She left!” he snapped, not bothering to soften it.
“Did she tell you where she went?”
“No,” he replied, already moving to open the front door. “Better leave now. You’re making the cats nervous.”
The cats might have been nervous with me around, but the truth was, the panic was all mine. Claire? Gone? My fingers tingled with worry while a sour ache spread inside my gut.
“Where did she go, Mr. Gunn?” My voice wavered, betraying the surge of desperation. I wasn’t going to let this slide. She owed me an explanation!
“Leave!” His bark hit me like a slap.
I stumbled out, knowing I was on my own now. I got into the truck and drove—aimless, restless—every instinct pulling me in a thousand directions, all of them pointing toward finding her.
How long would it take? Hours? Days? I didn’t care. I scoured the surrounding towns. Each gas station, each diner, every roadside motel that might have offered her a place to hide—nothing. But the longer I searched, the more I realized how impossible it was. My instincts, which had always been sharp, were failing me now.
By late afternoon, with frustration eroding my patience, I circled back to the shelter. Mr. Gunn was packing up like the day had vanished in the blink of an eye.
“Please, Mr. Gunn. I need to find her,” I said.
He didn’t even look up. “Should I call for my most vicious dog to escort you out?”
“I’m not leaving. Not until I know where she is.”
Mr. Gunn finally glanced at me, his eyes narrowing with something close to pity. “Feeling the sting now, huh?”
I wasn’t sure what Claire had told him, but it was clear he knew more than I did. He could see right through me, as if all my failures were written on my face. I stood there, waiting, knowing he was weighing whether or not to help me.
After a long pause, he exhaled as though conceding. “Ever hear of ‘the shelter angel’?”
“No.”
“Claire taught me how to work with other shelters. I used to run this place like it was the only one, but she opened my eyes. We’re all stretched thin, but there’s been talk—shelters all over Idaho and Wyoming receiving large donations out of nowhere. She’s got a soft spot for lost causes. Even here…a few times.”
I held my breath. New York—a hundred grand was missing. So she’d used the money to help struggling shelters? The thought of her playing Robin Hood for the animals gave me a tiny pang, but this wasn’t the time to get sentimental. If she wasn’t guilty, why run?
I asked, “Have you heard anything about this recently?”
He shook his head. “No. Not recently. But if you promise—if you bring her back, not as some hero riding in to save her, but as a man who deserves her—I’ll let you know the next time we get word.”
“There are things between Claire and me you don’t need to know, Mr. Gunn. But I’m not about to let her go.”
I stood there, absorbing what my own admission meant. I wasn’t blind to the mess between us, the lies and secrets that had been laid like landmines waiting to explode. But I owed it to her—and to myself—to look at those lies with clearer eyes. I wasn’t about to forget them. But I was ready to understand them. Something deep in me recognized that her truth, whatever it was, held the power to free us both. Whether we still had a future—that was a different question.
“I’ll call you,” he said after a moment. “Now get outta here.”
26
ELIA
