Page 83 of It's You
His phone buzzed as he pulled out of the driveway. He looked down, hating the fact that his throat tightened and his body tingled, hoping it was from Darcy.
It wasn’t. It was from Lela.
Two words:
Dad’s missing.
It felt a little dramatic to send a text advising Jack that his father was missing when his father had regularly gone missing throughout his life.
Dad’s missing. Also known as Friday. Or Tuesday. Or July.
Always the drama queen, Lela.
His phone buzzed again, and Jack picked up his phone to read the second part of the message:
Tallis can’t even find him.
Now Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. No matter how much distance separated a Roug from her mate, or how much bad blood, she should be able to pull him inside. Lela’s message meant that his father wasn’t just physically missing. It meant one of two things: that his father was unconscious or that his father was dead.
He had a four-hour drive ahead. Jack stepped on the gas.
After an hour,Jack found himself across the border in Canada as he drove up Route 108 north through the Parc National de Frontenac. He passed through the small town of Lambton and sped through Beauceville, where he generally stopped for gas and food. He kept his foot on the gas. He needed to make good time.
Jack was so focused on driving, he jumped when his phone rang. He picked up the phone to look at the caller ID and was surprised to see the name Willow Broussard, MD pop up on the small screen. The phone rang again, and Jack looked out the window, a sour expression reflected back at him. He could tell Willow was very protective of Darcy, which meant that this was going to be a spectacularly unpleasant phone call. The phone rang again. He’d lost his girl, and his father was missing. Now this? Jack took a deep breath and pressed answer.
“Bonjour?” Maybe he could throw her off.
“Jacques? Préfères-tu parler en français?Très bien.C’est Willow.”
Shit.He’d forgotten she was fluent. And if her tone was any indication, she was pissed. And the answer to her question was no. He didn’t really want to speak to her in French or at all.
“Willow,” he said, low and even. “What can I do for you?”
“You can leave my friend the fuck alone.”
Here we go.“Can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. You can walk away from her and leave her alone. You’re off to a good start. So I just wanted to say thanks for leaving, and don’t come back.”
“I’m bound to her, Willow.”
“Yeah. I heard.”
He heard the sarcasm in her voice. He hadn’t expected that. Not that he’d necessarily expected her to embrace his nature and lifestyle, but he did think there was a good chance she’d believe it was true.
“It’s true.”
“Are you fucking crazy? It’s alegend.”
“Legends come from somewhere. Did Darcy tell you what she saw yesterday morning?”
“She said she saw you walking out of your garage in the form of a monster, passed out on your driveway, and when she came to, you looked like yourself again. She said you admitted to being a…a…I can’t even say it, and it doesn’t matter anyway because it’s bullshit. She can’t stop crying. She can’t work. She’s confused. She’s taking an ancient legend and mixing it up in her head with old feelings for you. And you’re encouraging it.”
“You think she’s crazy?”
“You know what, Jack? Yes, she appears delusional and emotionally unstable to me. That’s my medical opinion. Mypersonalopinion is that you need to stop fucking with her head and leave her alone!”
Jack swallowed, his heart twisting at Willow’s description of Darcy. “She’s not crazy.”
