Page 61 of Down Knot Out
I take a deep breath. “Let’s finish this so we can return to our pack.”
As we step outside, the city noise dulls beneath the blood rushing in my ears. Every instinct screamsrun, but I don’t.
Not this time.
Chapter Seventeen
Blake
Quinn hums under her breath as she colors, cross-legged in front of the fireplace with crayons scattered, waiting for the unsuspecting to walk past and step on one. She hasn’t asked where Chloe is, and that worries me more than if she had.
I sit on the edge of the couch, phone in hand, refreshing the lock screen for the hundredth time. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the same empty screen since Dominic’s update that they wouldn’t be back until late afternoon.
The house feels wrong. Not because it’s quiet. Our pack knows how to live around each other’s silences. But the balance is off. Like a table with one leg shorter than the rest. Holden’s been in the kitchen since sunrise, cycling through muffins noone asked for, baking Chloe’s favorites as if it will summon her home faster.
She’s not here to enjoy the cranberry-orange baked goods, though. And none of us are saying the one thing we’re all thinking.
What if Simon had managed to kidnap her? How many times do we have to almost lose her before we’re allowed to relax?
“Uncle Blake!” Quinn holds up a new sheet of paper, a mass of swirls and scribbles with a bright purple heart in the center. “It’s me and Chloe and you and Holden and Dom and Nathaniel. Can we send it to Chloe?”
Tightness grips my chest. “We don’t need to send it to her, princess. She’ll be home soon.”
“Okay.” With a shrug, she sets the drawing aside and plops back down on the floor to start a new drawing.
The easy acceptance and lack of questions hurt my heart. How many times has someone said those same words to my niece about her mom coming home from another trip to the hospital or a stint in rehab? Does she really believe that Chloe is coming back? Or has she just learned that no matter what she does, it won’t change anything?
Quinn looks up at me guilelessly. “Do you want to help me color, Uncle Blake?”
I settle onto the floor, trying to focus on her, trying to be present the way Quinn deserves. The way Chloe deserves. But the thought of Sadie out there and Chloe out there and us all on our own again won’t stop circling, no matter how much I force my attention to Quinn.
“What else do you have in your art gallery?” I force enthusiasm. “Are you making me famous?”
Quinn giggles. “Yes! I’m going to sell your picture for a hundred billion dollars.”
“That much, huh?” I tease, and when she focuses on her crayons again, I send a text to Chloe.
Blake
I love you.
I stare at the screen, willing a response.
Quinn holds up another drawing. “This one is a butterfly! See the rainbow wings?”
I tuck the phone into my pocket. “I see them! It’s beautiful, just like you.”
The words are true, but even as I say them, my mind wanders back to how Dominic had explained Simon showing up at Chloe’s apartment. About how he’d gotten her onto the elevator before Dom even realized she was missing.
What would have happened if she hadn’tfought back? If the police hadn’t scared him away. Again.
Holden shuffles into the dining room with a basket full of muffins, the tart citrus that perfumes the air mixing with the too-sweet tang of anxiety rolling off him.
He sets it on the coffee table beside Quinn. “In case you’re hungry.”
She scrambles forward to peer into the basket and wrinkles her nose. “Eww. Where are the chocolate ones?”
Dismay fills Holden’s face. “Oh, you’re right. Sorry, princess. I’ll whip up a fresh batch.”
