Love, Reese
By coincidence, the keys to the Audi were laying on the counter next to the note, daring me to leave and go
after him. Reese had to be going to his parents to confront his mother, or worse, Logan. What if he was in trouble? Brent would never allow me to go to him, but knowing I must, I scribbled on the note just underneath Reese’s words.
My Dearest Brent,
I’m sorry, but I had to.
I love you, Claire
I slipped back into the bedroom, quietly retrieving my clothes and sneakers, then returned to the front room to change. I took Brent’s cell phone just in case I needed it, having left mine at the beach house in our rush to leave. Taking my time, I opened the front door, careful not to make too much noise. I froze momentarily and considered if I should wake Brent and tell him about Reese leaving. I decided he was too protective, and would talk me out of going. He would be angry but I would have to deal with that later.
CHAPTER 13
“Our soul mate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we’re two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we’ve found the right person. Our soul mate is the one who makes life come to life.” – Richard Bach
When I reached the Audi, I realized I didn’t even know where Reese lived, so I set the GPS for Northfield, just over two hours away. After ninety minutes, I pulled over and started searching the web on Brent’s phone. I found a listing for Dave Philips, assuming it was Reese’s father. Setting the GPS to the address from the listing, I hoped I would find Reese there. I prayed that he was not in any danger.
Pulling back onto the highway, Brent’s phone rang startling me. The name on the display made me anxious. It was Reese. I fumbled with the phone briefly before finally hitting the talk button. “Reese, oh thank God. Where are you?”
The voice on the other end of the line was cold and controlling and definitely not Reese. “Pull the car over and wait for me,” Brent instructed, spelling out each word. Clearly, he was angry. Reese must have left his phone at the hotel. Damn!
“I can’t, Brent. I have to find him,” I said adamantly.
“Goddammit, Claire. Pull the car over and tell me where you are.” Brent’s voice chilled me to bone.
Knowing Brent would stop me from finding Reese if I pulled over and waited for him, I decided to keep driving.
“No,” I replied, and hit the end button before my bravery evaporated.
The phone rang again and again. Brent was trying to get through and then it whistled. I looked at the screen and read the text.
Quit being so goddam stubborn, and stop the fucking car, Claire.
I didn’t bother to respond because now I was angry, too. It infuriated me when he acted this way, taking the controlling protector thing a little too far. It bothered me he used the “F” word so often, and I needed to speak with him about it soon. After several minutes, the phone whistled again.
Stop the car, please. This is dangerous.
His words were softer but I still didn’t respond. For a third time, a whistle alerted his text.
Claire, I’m really worried. Just tell me where you’re going.
I considered telling him, thinking he must be too far behind to stop me. Instead, I replied.
I love you.
Again the phone whistled – one desperate word.
Please.
I totally caved.
Reese’s house.
Thankfully Brent didn’t text again, but I worried about how upset he would be when he arrived at Reese’s house. I reasoned it would take a while for him to get there, giving him time to calm down a little.
I made my way into Northfield, and turned down the dead end street to Reese’s house. It was a quaint, khaki-green ranch house with a white farmer’s porch. A traditional colonial stone wall bordered the perimeter – screaming New England charm. I turned into the driveway and parked behind a red truck. Exiting the Audi, I heard footsteps on the street, and when I turned, his stare was ice cold.