Page 31 of Restored By You

Closed.

The whole time I was asleep, this floor was locked and dark and Tyler was—

Where? Where?

“Okay,” I whisper to nobody. “Okay, okay.”

There’s a night clerk at the front desk. One person who could put out a call, check the cameras, find him in five minutes.

And tell their manager, first thing tomorrow, that Daniel Winton’s daughter lost the Winton stepchild in the middle of the night. That she was drunk. That it went straight up the chain to the man whose name is on the building.

I stand in the dark outside the locked pool with my thumb already moving. I don’t call the front desk. I call the only person in this entire state I trust to help me and not make it worse.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Shea?”

Eleven.

Rhett

I’ve been awake for the last hour. The same dream that’s been plaguing me for the past four nights.

Shea. Under me. On top of me. Beside me. Her taste. Her smell.

Right down to the softest, sexiest fucking moan you can imagine… My subconscious is an evil fuck, I’ll tell you that.

So, when the phone lights up beside me at 2:31 AM and her name shines back at me, I’ve got it to my ear before the first ring finishes. “Shea?”

“Rhett.” Her voice is high and hushed. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s the middle of the night, but…I didn’t know who else to call.”

I sit up, reaching for my jeans on the floor. “Talk to me.”

“It’s Tyler. He’s not here. He went down to the arcade earlier and I-I fell asleep, and when I went to check on him, he-he’s not in his room, and the arcade’s closed, and I-I don’t know where he is and his phone’s going to voicemail and I don’t—”

“Where are you right now?”

“The lower level. By the pool. It’s locked.”

“Did the front desk call security?”

She pauses. “I didn’t tell the front desk.”

I stop, one boot on, the other in hand.

“I can’t,” she says slowly through the panic. “I can’t explain it right now, I just—please. Please, I need your help.”

My chest tightens. “Okay.” I stand and grab my keys off the dresser. “Listen to me. He’s fifteen and he’s bored. He didn’t vanish, all right? Kids like him, they find the one door nobody locks.” I’m moving down the dark hall, phone pinned to my shoulder, yanking a hoodie over my head. “Stay by the pool. Keep trying his phone.”

“Rhett—”

“Breathe, baby. I’m on my way.”

The resort at almost 3 AM is a different animal than the one I’ve been measuring all week. Grand and empty and lit up gold, the big timber lobby echoing my boots back at me as I come through the doors. The night clerk nods in my direction. He knows my face, knows the truck in the lot with the logo on it, and doesn’t question why the contractor’s here this late—or early.

Shea’s exactly where I told her to stay, and the sight of her has my steps faltering. Her arms are wrapped around herself in an oversized shirt and sleep shorts, no makeup, curls loose and wild. Natural. Stunning.

“Rhett.” Her voice breaks clean in half as she hurries to meet me.