Page 74 of Every Time My Heart Breaks

Fucking Pick. Out of all the women in this group, he’d chosen the absolute toughest case for me, I swear. This was never going to work.

Trick broke away from the others and sidled up beside me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching everyone but me and looking casual as if he wasn’t concerned. Except his chill act let me know he cared a whole fucking lot.

“Did Chloe come back through here?” I asked, still scanning the room, though I don’t know why. She obviously wasn’t here.

“No.” Trick finally turned to look at me, lifting his brows in condemnation. “You better not have lost my sister. I swear to God, Hamilton.”

“Losther?” I echoed, scowling back. “She’s not a pair of reading glasses. Besides, she was just in the kitchen, like, two seconds ago. She’s got to be around here somewhere.” There was no need to call out the National Guard, even though Trick’s response was making me panic.

That damn basement flashed into my head all over again.

My skin went cold. My breath stuttered through my lungs.

Where the hell was she?

“She came with you,” Trick growled at me. “You’re responsible for her.”

I glared back, not liking his accusations, but liking the fear he’d ignited in me even less.

“I’llfindher,” I muttered and started to turn away. But he caught my arm, halting me.

“Well, when you do, make sure she takes some damn ibuprofen.” When I raised questioning eyebrows, he explained, “She’s got a headache; she keeps pressing cold bottles and shit against her face to relieve it.”

Oh. I nodded and pulled away, and this time, he let me go.

Bypassing the kitchen, I hurried toward the rear exit of the house. But when I exploded into the dark, quiet backyard, I already knew it was empty.

“Chloe?” I called, anyway.

When she didn’t answer, I muttered, “Son of a bitch,” and ripped a hand through my hair, turning in a harried circle.

There was a back bathroom inside. I probably should’ve checked that first. But I didn’t go back into the house. She’d been pale and skittish when she’d lit out of the kitchen; no way would she have been able to stay trapped indoors, cooped up with so many people in that state.

I made my way around to the front of the house, and when I spotted her under a streetlamp, waiting by the passenger side door of my truck, I jarred myself to a halt and exhaled roughly.

But Jesus, I’d been on the verge of a total meltdown. My knees went a little weak, and I took another second to collect myself.

My first response after that was to storm forward and yell at her for scaring the shit out of me, but then Pick’s words flooded my head.

You couldnotpop back with some idiotic, smartass comment every time she does or says something you don’t like.

So I swallowed all the idiotic comments swimming in my brain and pulled the key fob from my pocket to unlock the door for her instead. As soon as my truck lights flashed, Chloe yanked her door open, more than eager to leave, and she climbed inside. By the time I joined her in the truck, she’d already seat-belted herself secure and was ready to go.

I didn’t say a word, just started the engine, and then lifted the center console lid before pulling out a pill bottle.

When I silently held it out to her, she looked over at me in surprise and then down at the bottle before she slowly took it from my hand.

“How did you know?” she asked quietly, unscrewing the cap.

“You kept pressing cold things against your head as if it were killing you,” I said before shrugging and admitting, “Trick noticed.”

Because I wasn’t observant and perceptive like that. People had to fucking come right out and tell me shit if they needed something. Like love.

Which made me wonder if maybe it really was true that she’d actually loved me once upon a time, and I’d just never noticed. Because I probablywouldn’thave.

Dammit. I’d be a shit husband for her. Pick didn’t know how to choose a son-in-law worth a damn.

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