Page 100 of Protected from Torment

It’s going to be okay.

If she’s not feeling well, I’ll get Indy. Or bring her to the doctor.

If Mel’s upset, I can fix it. Like Rafe said, I’ll do whatever it takes.

Knowing Mel is struggling, that she was crying, that Eden was worried enough to send Rafe to talk to me… it brings everything into stark clarity.

Whatever Mel needs, I want to give it to her. And I can’t do that when she’s all the way across the country.

Once I figure out what’s going on with Mel, I’ll talk to her. Really talk. I’ll explain why I’m worried about keeping her safe. I’ll tell her how badly I want her to stay.

And I’ll tell her I love her, like I should have weeks ago.

I’m nearly to my house when a memory comes back to me. It was only a few months after I’d lost my leg, and I was struggling with phantom pain and crushing depression. One morning, while I moped over breakfast, I told Kaia she should leave me. That she’d be better off without a broken man for a husband.

Kaia got so mad, she threw her toast at my head. Then she said, “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. I do. And I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

Ah, shit. Kaia would be so pissed at me.

I’m pissed at myself.

I’m going to fix this, I vow. And I’m going to stop assuming I know what’s best for Melissa. I’m going to lay it all out there and let her decide for herself.

With renewed determination, I race up the path to my front porch and skip the steps, choosing to leap over them in my haste instead. I knock at the door while I’m opening it, then burst into the living room calling out, “Mel? You here?”

But a quick glance around the living room and kitchen shows it empty. So I hurry into the hallway to check the bedroom, in case she’s still not feeling well and went in there to rest. I’m so certain she’s going to be in bed, I actually blink in disbelief when I don’t find her there.

I search the rest of the house, my worry building with each room she’s not in. And when I’ve gone through every room, including the closets—which is stupid, why would Mel be hiding in a closet, but I can’t help checking—my worry blossoms into outright fear.

Something’s wrong.

Yes, there could be a rational explanation for this. Mel could be visiting with Bea. Or Yara. She could have decided to go for an extra-long walk around the property. She could be in the main building, which I didn’t think to check in my hurry to get here.

Taking a steadying breath, I head into the kitchen to regroup. On the counter is the note I left for Mel, but I can’t tell if it was read.

As I look at the note, self-recrimination weighs on me. Why didn’t I wait for her to come back from her walk before heading to the office? Or, shit, I could have gone on her walk with her. But instead, I just let her go.

What-ifs don’t help, I remind myself. I can’t change the past. What’s important is now.

With that in mind, I pull out my phone and get to work.

First, I try Mel again, both calling and texting. But like before, in my office, she doesn’t respond.

Then I start methodically checking the interior cameras of the main building. We don’t typically use them, and in fact, they’re kept off for privacy. We’d know well before an enemy gets into the building, we figure. No need to have the interior cameras active unless it’s an emergency.

But this is an emergency. So the cameras are going on. Not in the apartments, but throughout the communal spaces, like the shared living room, the theater, and the game room.

Unfortunately, after several minutes of searching, I’ve still found no sign of Mel.

So I check the exterior cameras—the ones by the garage, the main gate, all along the perimeter fence, and around the main building.

“Fuck,” I hiss, after completing another fruitless search. I could go back through the recorded footage to see if Mel went by, but that’ll take time, and I don’t want to wait.

I need to find out where Mel is. Now.

What if she left, the scornful voice whispers. What if she packed up her things, called for a ride, and left? And now she’s at the airport, waiting for the next flight back to the East coast?

Shut up, I tell the voice. She wouldn’t leave without telling me.