I grab her hand, pulling her toward me. “You can’t do that.”
“I can, and I am.” She gets in my face, her brows rising. “So what’s it going to be, Katherine?”
EMMETT
“You’re up early.” Mom gives me a quizzical look as I enter the kitchen through the back door.
“Couldn’t sleep.” I shrug. When I snuck home last night, after leaving Kate at her aunt’s house, I couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep. I kept tossing and turning. You’d think that everything that happened would leave me exhausted, but nope. There was this suppressed energy that was boiling inside of me, wanting to get out.
“You came home late last night,” Mom comments, stirring something on the stove. “Y’all had fun?”
It’s amusing seeing her pretend she’s all chill, when I know she’s dying to get an answer.
“Homecoming was good.” I lean against the doorway and tilt my head to the side. “How do you know when I got home? You were asleep.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “A mother always knows.” There is a slight pause, and then, “Kate coming?”
I look at the clock on the wall. “Yeah, I’ll go up to shower and change before I go and pick her up.”
“Sounds good. I’ll let Dad know.”
Pushing off the wall, I cross the room and stop behind her to press a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime, darlin’.”
I rush up the stairs, taking two at a time, and start unbuttoning my flannel shirt as I cross the hallway to my room.
The bed is still unmade like I left it when I got up earlier to go out and help on the ranch. Ignoring it, I go straight for the dresser and start pulling some fresh clothes out when I see the notification on my phone. I pick it up and check the message.
Kitty: I’m sorry, but maybe this is for the best.
“What the hell?”
I stare at the text, frowning for what feels like forever, trying to comprehend what she’s saying, but come up empty.
What is for the best? The hairs at the back of my neck prickle. What the hell, Kitty?
“Fuck this.”
I press the call button and wait as the phone rings.
And rings.
And fucking rings.
“Goddammit, Kate!”
I try two more times but both end the same.
What the fuck is happening? Where is she? She didn’t actually think she could send a cryptic message like that and leave me hanging?
Pulling out my contacts, I dial Becky who thankfully answers almost instantly.
Ignoring the pleasantries, I get right down to it. “Do you know where Kate is?”
“What? Hello, to you too, E—”
“I don’t have time for this, Becs.” I pound my clenched fist against the dresser. “Do you know where Kate is? Yes or no?”
There is a slight pause. Part of me feels guilty for yelling at her, but I can’t help but feel like the time is running out. “No, I don’t.”
“Shit.”
“What’s going on, Emmett?”
I run my hand through my hair. “She sent me this weird message, and now she’s not answering.”
“Weird? Weird how?”
“I don’t know, just weird.”
Becky groans. “What did it say, Emmett?”
“‘I’m sorry, but maybe this is for the best.’”
What is for the best? And best for whom?
Those two questions keep rolling on repeat in my mind.
“What? Why?”
Apparently, I’m not the only one blindsided by all of this. Not that it makes me feel any better.
“If I knew I wouldn’t be talking to you now,” I snap.
“Did something happen last night?”
The events of last night flash in front of my eyes. Kate looking stunning in that dress. Dancing together at homecoming. Undressing her in the bed of my truck. Making love under the stars.
“No,” I croak, my throat tight. “Last night was perfect.” So fucking perfect that this makes even less sense. Fuck this. I turn around and go for the door. “I’m going over there.”
“I’m coming with you,” Becky says immediately, and I can hear some rustling in the background.
“No.”
“Ha, try to stop me.” With that, she hangs up.
Cursing, I shove my phone into my pocket and rebutton my shirt as I descend the stairs.
Mom peeks out of the kitchen. “Are you already done?” She frowns when she sees my face. “Did something happen?”
“I have to go, sorry, Mom.”
“But what about the—”
I don’t hear the rest because the front door shuts behind me before she can finish, and, in the process, I almost crash into Bradley.
“Whoa, there.” He puts his hands on my shoulders to steady me. “What’s the rush?”
“Sorry, something’s going on with Kate…” I shake my head, walking around him. “I’ve got to go.”
“What—”
Done with listening to questions to which I don’t have an answer, I hurry to my truck, which is thankfully parked just in front of the house, and get out of there.
What the hell is going on, Kate?
“Hold your horses. I’m coming!” Kate’s aunt yells from the other side of the door. She pulls the door open just as I’m about to knock again. “Emmett? What are you doing here?”
“Where is she?” I ask, my breathing labored as I push my way inside. “Where is Kate?”
I look around, hoping, praying really, that Kate will come down the stairs or out of one of the rooms and tell me I’ve got it all wrong, but it doesn’t happen, so I turn my attention to Mabel Adams.
Realization dawns on her, and her face falls.
“What? What happened?”
I want to put my hands on her shoulders and shake her until she tells me what the fuck is happening here.
“She’s gone.”
“What?” I take a step back. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”
She can’t be gone. That’s not how it works. Besides, she’d have told me. Wouldn’t she?
After everything that happened last night, she would have told me if she was planning to leave.
Mabel sighs. “They left a little while ago. Mary decided it’s best for them to go back home.”
“And you just let them leave?” I yell at her, unable to hold in the rage that’s been accumulating since I saw the message any longer.
Best for them? What’s that? A phrase of the day? Un-fucking-believable. In what fucking universe is that what’s best for them?
If Kate told me what happened with Penelope back in California, her aunt must know something, too. She can’t actually believe that shit. It’s not best for them to go back to the place that hurt them both so badly in different ways.
“What was I supposed to do?” She crosses her arms over her chest defensively, but I can see her lips wobble a bit. “She’s their mother.”
Un-fucking-believable.
“Where did they go?”
“What…”
“Where did they go?” I repeat, not in the mood to mess around. God only knows how much time they have on me. Can I even catch up? Maybe they took the bus, and they’re already on their way to California.