Page 53 of Trails of Temptation

“He wasn’t at his house when I went over this morning. Randy hasn’t seen him, and he’s not answering his phone.”

Dread welled in the pit of my stomach.

“Where is—”

“I called Pete,” he cut in, grimacing. “He’s not there, either.”

“Maybe he’s out getting a checkup, after the fight and stuff?” Moira pressed, but the look on her face was hollow. She didn’t believe that could be an option as much as I didn’t.

I left them standing in the foyer and rushed to my room, my heart in my throat as I shut the door behind me and slumped against. I pulled out my phone and called him, trying to steady my breathing.

It went straight to voicemail.

“George?” I whispered as the call hung up. I called again, nothing. I slumped down onto my ass with my phone in my hands, then called Pete. “Is he there?”

“Why are you calling me, Keely?”

“Well, you answered. Where the hell is George?”

“Think I care?”

He hung up, and I tossed my phone across the room so hard it shattered against the wall. I buried my face in my hands and silently screamed.

Was he hurt somewhere, alone? Was I overreacting and he was out running errands and his phone had died?

I couldn’t do more than gather myself up and pick up the remains of my phone, mumbling an apology to Grant and Moira as I got back in my truck and drove to town to stupidly buy a new one in the event he did call and I missed it.

I didn’t see his truck in town at all. He wasn’t at the feed store. He wasn’t at the hardware store. I knew he wouldn’t have been at Pete’s bar, so I didn’t even check there. But that sinking, whirling feeling of dread in my stomach intensified as I drove back to Grant and Moira’s house.

What if he’d just… left? Left me? Realized he’d made a mistake and ran?

Moira thought it was unlikely as we talked about it over dinner. Grant, on the other hand, was more worried that Pete had straight up murdered him and he was at the bottom of a lake somewhere. It was Randy who came in at the tail end of dinner and effectively killed whatever hope I’d had that George would walk through the backdoor with an excuse for his absence and radio silence.

“He packed a bag,” he said to Grant in the kitchen as I cleaned up, my back turned from the men to hide my tears. “Rifled through his dresser, looks like. Fed his animals enough for an entire week at least.”

“Where could he have gone?”

“Helena, maybe? His mom just moved back there.”

“And he said nothing to any of you guys?”

“Some of the younger hands saw him peeling out of his driveway early this morning while on the phone with someone. They thought it was about the auction this weekend.”

“Goddammit,” Grant said briskly, exhaling. “Has anyone called his mom? Does anyone know her?”

“Don’t,” I said softly.

“Keely—”

“He left because of what happened between him and Pete… because of me,” I said, clutching the counter until my knuckles went white. I let go and turned around, my eyes glassy with tears. “He’s fine. I know it. He’s just gone.”

“George wouldn’t do something like this to you, Miss Keely,” Randy argued, the hard lines of his face softening.

“He wouldn’t have ruined his relationship with his lifelong best friend, either, but he did,” I said, tossing the towel I’d been drying dishes with on the counter. “I… I need a minute.”

“Keely—” Grant began, but I was already walking away, my chest so tight I could barely find my breath.

I closed the door to my room and curled into the fetal position in bed, letting silent, burning tears slide down my cheeks.

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