“The thing is…I’m not really sure what to say.” None of the words in his head felt like they’d be enough to make her understand.
“I’ve found tellin’ the truth to be the best way to make amends. But do it quick, you hear? You don’t want a girl like that to get away.”
Shane swallowed hard and nodded. Letting her get away was the last thing Shane wanted.
Bellamy jammed the last of her clothes into the tiny washing machine in her condo and closed the lid, filling the dispenser with as much detergent as it would allow before starting the wash cycle.
“Damn, girl. You must want those clothes uber-clean,” Jenna said, arching an eyebrow over the lid of her Starbucks cup from the end of the hall.
Bellamy closed the laundry closet door, making her way toward Jenna and the kitchen with the hem of her pajamas swishing around her ankles. “Yup.”
Take that, super-Shane-smell. If only a healthy dose of laundry detergent would erase the rest of him, too.
“If you’re looking for cream cheese, there’s some on the top shelf,” Bellamy offered as she walked into the kitchen, gesturing to the stainless steel fridge with a lift of her chin.
Holly snorted and reached into one of the distressed pine cabinets for a plate before unloading the contents of the brown paper bakery bag across the counter.
“Are you kidding? A crisis like this overrides bagels in a heartbeat. We’re in full-on pastry territory.” Holly pulled two cranberry streusel muffins roughly the size of softballs out of the bag, following them with a couple of pumpkin scones and a chocolate éclair. “Breakfast is served,” she chimed, passing Bellamy the éclair.
“There’s no crisis. I don’t need an éclair for breakfast.” Bellamy frowned, picking at the satiny exterior. How pathetic could she get? And oh, my God, that ganache was beautiful.
“Ooooh, goody. Pass it this way then,” Jenna said with an expectant wave as she plopped herself down at the farmhouse table in the middle of the dining area.
Bellamy clutched the gooey chocolate shell hard enough to leave fingerprints behind. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it. I said I didn’t need it,” she clarified, breaking off a piece for Jenna and passing it over before taking a bite. “I’m honestly fine.”
Holly pursed her lips, a network of worried creases outlining her forehead. She plunked the plate of muffins down on the table, sliding into a chair with her latte.
“Sweetie, denial like this isn’t healthy.” She held up her hand to halt Bellamy’s protest. “And I’m not just saying that so you’ll spill. I’m saying it as your friend. You called Jenna at two o’clock in the morning to come get you. Middle of the night stuff like that is never not a big deal.”
Well, crap. There was that.
Holly continued. “If you really don’t want to talk about it, then we’ll just have breakfast. But really? You might feel better if you got it off your chest.”
Bellamy sighed, her eyes starting to sting despite her pride screaming like a banshee for them to knock it off. “Shane lied to me,” she finally managed to get out.
Holly’s eyes widened. “After Derek? No wonder you’re upset. Also, what a jackass.”
“Believe me. What Derek did is nothing compared to this,” Bellamy whispered.
“God, B.” Jenna lowered her half of the éclair, uneaten, to grab Bellamy’s hand. “What did Shane lie to you about?”
Bellamy’s voice wavered despite her very best efforts to kick it in the ass.
“Everything.”
Shane pulled up to the cabin, watching the mid-morning sunlight stream around the trees as he pondered his words for the billionth time in the last twelve hours. He palmed his keys and made his way to the front door, pulse pounding with every step he took toward the tiny porch. Bellamy was just beyond the scuffed wooden threshold, probably waiting to give him the cold shoulder. Not that he didn’t deserve it. Still, Shane was long overdue to tell her the truth.
He just hoped she’d listen.
“Bellamy?” Shane squinted into the cabin, eyes adjusting too slowly to the dark interior. The quiet that Shane normally craved pinged off the amber log walls, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. “Bellamy?” he tried again, and the silence grew more eerie and twice as loud. Shane bolted through the empty the main room, past the wide-open bathroom door and into the bedroom. His bed was made, his cabin utterly still, and any sign that Bellamy had ever been there had vanished into thin air.
Shane’s brain railed in a silent yell. Maybe she’d tried the trails behind the cabin to try to chill out. But then, where was her stuff? The suitcase that had taken over what little room existed next to Shane’s dresser just last night was now gone, and the empty space where her things had been only hours before wrenched a hole in his chest.
In a daze, Shane stumbled back into the main room. The sink sat, empty and clean, just like the rest of his small kitchen. Hadn’t there been dishes? The memory of Bellamy, so sultry and unassumingly beautiful as she’d stood in front of the sink full of bubbles catapulted into his mind, and he sank into the recliner from weak knees.
She was gone.
He stalked over the floorboards, his mind racing. She didn’t even have a car—where could she have gone? His brain tumbled with possible answers, but each one turned out to be more absurd than the last. Finally, he snatched up his cell phone, gripping it in frustration. He’d just call her until she picked up. Sure, it was a total twelve-year-old move, but what choice did he have? He was that fucking desperate to make sure she was okay.
Shane settled into the recliner, resolve hardening, when his cell phone rang in his hand, startling him clear through the roof of his cabin.
“Jesus!” he barked, checking the caller ID.
Midtown Mazda Dealership. A chill rippled up his spine, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Hello?”
“Oh, uh, sorry, is this…” There was a pause and the sound of some papers rustling on the other end. “Grady’s Garage on Pine Mountain?”
Shane frowned until he remembered forwarding the garage phone to his cell. “Sorry, yeah. This is Shane. Can I help you?”
“I’ve got an order here to pick up a Miata from you, kind of a weird request. Owner said you’re replacing the transmission, and she wants us to tow it back here when you’re done. Ring any bells?”
Shane’s entire universe pitched at an odd tilt, and he had to close his eyes just to keep his balance even though he was sitting down. “Yeah,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I know the car. You said you have an order to pick it up?”
“Yeah, a, uh, hold on…Bellamy Blake called it in a little while ago. Just between me and you, the tow is going to cost her a ridiculous amount of money, but she was pretty clear she couldn’t leave the city to pick it up and wanted it towed when you’re done. Anyhow, you got a timeframe on completion so I can get this on my books?”
If Bellamy was making arrangements to have her car brought to the city, then somehow, she’d gotten the hell out of Dodge without saying goodbye. For a second, Shane was tempted to tell the guy that there had been a huge mix-up and that he should forget coming to get her car. If Shane drove the fucking thing to the city himself, then Bellamy would have to see him.