Those two words weren’t good enough, he couldn’t just send them in a text and then disappear.
She wanted an explanation.
She pressed her phone against her forehead.
She wanted to tell him she loved him, too.
But she wasn’t going to send it in a text nor would she leave it in a voicemail. If he wanted to hear it, he would need to hear it in person.
For that, he would need to come home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A pounding on her front door made her heart skip a beat and the spoon she was stirring the tomato sauce with slip from her fingers. Chelle helplessly watched it sink to the bottom of the pot and disappear.
“Shit.”
A second round of pounding made her jump and her eyes turn from the bubbling sauce toward the front of the house.
Neither girls were home but should be back in time for dinner.
Chelle swallowed her heart back into her chest and turned down the burners on the stove before wiping her hands on the nearby dish towel and facing the direction of the door.
Another round of knocking. Short, loud, not to be ignored.
The last time she’d heard knocking like that, the people on the other side had delivered bad news.
Really, really bad news.
News that changed her life. Her daughters’ lives.
She swallowed hard again, took a deep breath, straightened her spine and marched out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the front door.
She flipped on the porch light and put her eye to the peephole.
The shaky confidence she clung to fled when she saw who stood on her porch.
She unlocked the door, swung it open and stared at the two men on her doorstep. She remembered both of their names because both men were hard to forget.
She also remembered the last time two men in uniform knocked on her door. These two men wore uniforms, too. Only theirs were black leather vests with club colors.
A brotherhood of a different kind.
A brotherhood all the same.
She hoped to hell they weren’t about to deliver the same type of bad news. Her pulse began to rush again as her heart pounded as hard as they had knocked.
Please don’t be dead.
Please don’t be dead.
Please, God, don’t let Shade be dead.
She pressed her steepled fingers to her mouth and stepped back, giving Shade’s brothers room to enter the foyer. Once they both stepped inside, the house seemed so much smaller.
Daisy’s future father was a huge, bearded man who could easily scare the shit out of anyone with his appearance alone. His cousin Deacon, though not quite as large, wasn’t any less intimidating. Not with his Viking looks and his serious expression.
Both sets of dark eyes were glued to her.
“He here?” Judge asked.
The blood drained from her face and her knees wobbled slightly, so she locked them in place.
Her lips parted but it seemed like her, “No,” took forever to travel from her tight chest into her throat and out of her mouth.
Whatever crossed both of their faces was quickly hidden. Not fast enough.
She’d seen it.
Their worry. Their confusion.
It didn’t help when they glanced at each other before looking back at her.
“We figured he was here. That he was takin’ a couple extra days off his feet and to,” Deacon raised one eyebrow, “to—”
Judge made a sharp noise at the back of his throat.
Deacon finished with a weak, “heal.”
“You don’t know where he is?”
Judge shook his head, his short hair hidden by a gray knit beanie. “Ain’t answerin’ his calls or texts. His voicemail’s now full.”
“His bike?” she asked optimistically.
Two of his brothers had dropped it off early Friday morning in anticipation of him being able to ride again. When she checked her garage Saturday morning, it was gone. His Harley was so loud, she had no idea how he rode it away without it waking her up.
Unless he didn’t ride it away for that reason.
“Sled’s gone,” Deacon confirmed.
“It’s not here, either,” she murmured.
“He didn’t show up for the club run yesterday or for work this mornin’. Yesterday could kinda understand, but this mornin’?” Judge shook his head. “He woulda called Cassie to let her know.”
She turned, went to the stairs and sat down on the fourth step. “Why would he just disappear like that?” She glanced up at Judge. “Have you checked all the places he normally went?” She tilted her head. “Like that bar in Williamsport?”
A muscle jumped in the big man’s cheek. It took him a few heartbeats before he admitted, “Yeah, we checked that bar in Williamsport.”
“You guys have a fight or somethin’?” Deacon asked, drawing her attention.
“No.” After the nightmare Thursday night and their talk out on the balcony, he seemed to be okay. Friday night, she had sat out on the balcony with him as he got stoned again before they went back in, had sex and fell asleep.
No tension at all had existed between them. The sex had been great, he seemed relaxed and nothing seemed off. She had no idea why he just up and left without telling her that he was leaving.