Page 45 of Still Missing You

Through the entire exchange, I sat in the chair next to Hunter’s bed, practically biting holes in my tongue to keep from interjecting while Hunter nodded along with the doctor because, despite having been apart for the past decade, I knew Hunter well enough to know that he wouldn’t go easier on himself. He never did. He always focused on everyone else, putting himself last. He’d never taken care of himself, even back when we were teenagers.

Case in point, when I asked him if he wanted me to call his mother or sisters, he shook his head and told me not to bother. He didn’t want them to worry.

The memory of him sprawled out on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, unmoving, still sent a chill through me like an icy wind. For just a split second, I had thought he was dead. My stomach clenched.

“It wasn’t nothing. You fought an intruder, who would have done who knows what if you hadn’t been awake, and then fell down the stairs. You could have broken a bone. You could have slipped into a coma. You could have died.”

He reached out and took my hand, offering a reassuring squeeze. “I’m okay. I’ll be out of here shortly.”

I sighed, frustrated with how careless he could be with himself.

Now, though, as I steer Hunter’s truck down the slick, snow-coated road toward the inn, all that nonchalance vanishes. He watches my every move with narrowed eyes and grips the door handle as if to physically stop himself from taking over.

“You know,” I say, fighting to keep from smirking. “I’ve driven before. I even have my own car.”

He nods, but doesn’t look away from the road or the flat, wet snowflakes the wipers sweep off the windshield. “The roads are slick.”

I just grin.

In spite of everything, I can’t wait to get back to the inn. And that realization makes my skin crawl. The antiseptic stink from the hospital clings to my skin and clothes, and I want nothing more than to stand under the hot spray of the shower and wash it all away. Maybe even the memory of Hunter at the bottom of the stairs.

The inn looms ahead at the end of the road. The gray clapboard and yellow shutters, combined with smoke curling from the chimney, give a false sense of comfort, as if the house was trying to lure us into believing that nothing bad happened here or ever could. My stomach twists.

“There’s a police cruiser,” Hunter says, nodding at the car parked at the end of the drive.

“Huh,” I mutter. We’d expected the cops to turn up at the hospital, but they never did.

Hunter exhales through his nose. “Guess they didn’t forget us after all.”

“What will you tell them?”

“The truth.”

The truth? That he was a private investigator pretending to be my boyfriend while we tried to find a man I’d only known a few weeks before he vanished? It sounded crazy, but after someone sneaked into our room, maybe it wasn’t that crazy after all.

Inside, the warmth hits first, easing a little of the tension gripping my shoulder, only to return when my gaze lands on a fortyish woman, dark hair, streaked with gray, pulled into a tight ponytail, dressed in a long, open camel coat that reveals dark pants and a white blouse. She stands next to the front desk, notebook in hand, badge clipped to her belt.

Jim stands next to her, hands shoved into his pockets, looking smaller than I remember. Nancy is nowhere to be seen.

The detective looks up as we come in. “Mr. Moore? Mr. Cade?”

Hunter stiffens beside me. “That’s right.”

“I’m Detective Alvarez. Glad to see you’re out of the hospital.” Her gaze flicks to the bruise on the side of Hunter’s face. “How are you holding up?”

“Been better,” Hunter admits.

She nods, already writing. “I was just finishing up with Jim here. We’re trying to get a clearer picture of what happened last night.”

Jim’s eyes dart to Hunter, then to me. He looks wrung out. Pale.

“Nancy isn’t here,” Alvarez continues. “Jim explained she was out of the inn overnight?”

“Yes,” Jim says quickly. “She... uh... she was at her parents’ place in town. Our children live there. It’s easier while they’re in school and keeps them from under our guests’ feet.”

Alvarez looks to Hunter. “You can confirm she wasn’t here?”

Hunter shakes his head. “I didn’t see her.”