Without a word?
Just... leave?
Just like that? Without saying goodbye or letting her know where he was going? Or telling her that he was moving back into his room on the farm?
Nothing?
That wasn’t Shade. He wasn’t like that.
Or maybe he was.
Maybe he was right when two nights ago he stated, “You don’t know me.”
Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought.
He had revealed some of his secrets, but not all. She had no idea how many he really had.
It could be so many, he’d lost track of them all himself.
Maybe it was her age.
Maybe it was her having two grown daughters.
Maybe it was Rick’s dislike of him and the idea of someone like him being in Chelle’s life.
Maybe it was all of it.
Maybe it was none of it.
She had no idea because he left without a damn word.
Anger quickly bubbled up and replaced the deep-seated hurt.
He’d used her. That was what he did. She was an easy mark desperate for love and attention. Thrilled that a man eleven years her junior would even want her or find her sexy. He was gorgeous, great in bed and could get any woman he wanted.
Why would a man like that want her? An older widow and single mother.
She fought the sting in her nose and eyes.
Well, fuck him. Fuck him for making her fall in love with him.
Fuck him for breaking her heart like this. Pretending to care for her as much as she cared for him.
Fuck. Him.
She grabbed her phone off the charger, turned it on and while it booted up, she sat on her bed and seethed.
Because anger was easier than heartache.
When her home screen appeared, a message popped up. She knew who it was from before she even saw the name.
She read the simple message—made up of only two damn words—ten times to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. After the tenth time she still wasn’t sure if she should be heartbroken or angry. Or both.
Love you.
“Love you,” she whispered.
He loved her? Why would he text her that instead of telling her in person? Where the hell did he go?
She double-checked her texts to make sure that was the only one from him. It was.
She checked her voicemail to make sure he didn’t leave her one. He hadn’t.
She tried calling him and the call went right to his voicemail.
She tried texting him and received no response.
He had stayed in her house, in her bed, for the two weeks Trip had forced him to. The minute he was done with that sentence he left.
Those two words weren’t good enough, he couldn’t just send them in a text and then disappear.
She wanted an explanation.
She pressed her phone against her forehead.
She wanted to tell him she loved him, too.
But she wasn’t going to send it in a text nor would she leave it in a voicemail. If he wanted to hear it, he would need to hear it in person.
For that, he would need to come home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A pounding on her front door made her heart skip a beat and the spoon she was stirring the tomato sauce with slip from her fingers. Chelle helplessly watched it sink to the bottom of the pot and disappear.
“Shit.”
A second round of pounding made her jump and her eyes turn from the bubbling sauce toward the front of the house.
Neither girls were home but should be back in time for dinner.
Chelle swallowed her heart back into her chest and turned down the burners on the stove before wiping her hands on the nearby dish towel and facing the direction of the door.
Another round of knocking. Short, loud, not to be ignored.
The last time she’d heard knocking like that, the people on the other side had delivered bad news.
Really, really bad news.
News that changed her life. Her daughters’ lives.
She swallowed hard again, took a deep breath, straightened her spine and marched out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the front door.
She flipped on the porch light and put her eye to the peephole.
The shaky confidence she clung to fled when she saw who stood on her porch.
She unlocked the door, swung it open and stared at the two men on her doorstep. She remembered both of their names because both men were hard to forget.
She also remembered the last time two men in uniform knocked on her door. These two men wore uniforms, too. Only theirs were black leather vests with club colors.
A brotherhood of a different kind.
A brotherhood all the same.
She hoped to hell they weren’t about to deliver the same type of bad news. Her pulse began to rush again as her heart pounded as hard as they had knocked.
Please don’t be dead.
Please don’t be dead.
Please, God, don’t let Shade be dead.
She pressed her steepled fingers to her mouth and stepped back, giving Shade’s brothers room to enter the foyer. Once they both stepped inside, the house seemed so much smaller.
Daisy’s future father was a huge, bearded man who could easily scare the shit out of anyone with his appearance alone. His cousin Deacon, though not quite as large, wasn’t any less intimidating. Not with his Viking looks and his serious expression.
Both sets of dark eyes were glued to her.
“He here?” Judge asked.
The blood drained from her face and her knees wobbled slightly, so she locked them in place.
Her lips parted but it seemed like her, “No,” took forever to travel from her tight chest into her throat and out of her mouth.
Whatever crossed both of their faces was quickly hidden. Not fast enough.
She’d seen it.
Their worry. Their confusion.
It didn’t help when they glanced at each other before looking back at her.
“We figured he was here. That he was takin’ a couple extra days off his feet and to,” Deacon raised one eyebrow, “to—”
Judge made a sharp noise at the back of his throat.
Deacon finished with a weak, “heal.”
“You don’t know where he is?”
Judge shook his head, his short hair hidden by a gray knit beanie. “Ain’t answerin’ his calls or texts. His voicemail’s now full.”
“His bike?” she asked optimistically.
Two of his brothers had dropped it off early Friday morning in anticipation of him being able to ride again. When she checked her garage Saturday morning, it was gone. His Harley was so loud, she had no idea how he rode it away without it waking her up.
Unless he didn’t ride it away for that reason.
“Sled’s gone,” Deacon confirmed.
“It’s not here, either,” she murmured.
“He didn’t show up for the club run yesterday or for work this mornin’. Yesterday could kinda understand, but this mornin’?” Judge shook his head. “He woulda called Cassie to let her know.”
She turned, went to the stairs and sat down on the fourth step. “Why would he just disappear like that?” She glanced up at Judge. “Have you checked all the places he normally went?” She tilted her head. “Like that bar in Williamsport?”
A muscle jumped in the big man’s cheek. It took him a few heartbeats before he admitted, “Yeah, we checked that bar in Williamsport.”
“You guys have a fight or somethin’?” Deacon asked, drawing her attention.