I shake my head. “But if Jim Gunn really did do something bad to Missy King and you know about it, and if you think the guy beside your bike that night was him... That’s bad, Cross. That’s scary bad.”
Cross is leaning on the side of the bed, breathing kind of fast, and I notice there are wires running out of the bottom of his t-shirt. One of the machines starts to hum. I step close enough to touch his shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”
He sucks his breath in, and just as I get really worried, his right hand clutches mine. I lace my fingers through his, and there’s a knock at the door. “You okay in there?” Nanette calls.
“Fine,” Cross says, but it sounds like he’s gasping.
“Oh my God, Cross.” I wrap my arms around him and he pulls me close.
I breathe deeply as we hold on to each other, and finally the monitor stops beeping. I run my palm over his soft, short hair and look into the handsome face I’ve known almost my whole life. I can’t imagine someone hurting Cross. “I’m so sorry that I mentioned that stuff. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I’m expecting him to brush his freakout off, the way Cross would. I’m expecting anything but what he does, which is push my hair back and kiss me, his lips touching mine for half a second before he jerks away.
I touch my mouth, horrified. “Cross—”
“I know, okay?” He holds his hands up. “I know I’m not the one you want. Jesus, Lizzy, just give me a second.” He turns away, and out of nowhere, tears are spilling down my cheeks. I feel like I can’t do anything—for Cross or Hunter.
I’m standing there with my arms around myself, wishing I had never come here today, when Cross turns back to face me. There’s space between us this time. “I’m sorry, Lizzy. Please forgive me.”
“I do. Of course I do.” I look into his blue eyes. “But I’m worried about you. If you know details of a...I don’t know, some kind of crime—”
“Shhh.” He reaches for me, but he doesn’t touch me. He brings his right hand back to his side. “Don’t talk about that, please. And don’t think about it either, okay? I’m fine now. I’m good.”
I wipe my eyes, smirking. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Yes.” It would be terrible for Cross to go through this alone. Just like it’s terrible for Hunter. “It was him, wasn’t it?” I whisper. “Jim Gunn did something to make Missy King disappear, and you know he did.”
He shuts his eyes.
“Did your father ask him to?” It’s such a horrible question, I can barely get the words out. It seems impossible, but if Missy King turned into trouble, did something that might put Drake Carlson in jeopardy… God, he really might have done something horrible. I drop my voice an octave lower. “Do you have, like, evidence or something?”
Cross hesitates, his lips pressed into a firm line. And I know Cross. That’s confirmation.
I feel cold all over. Sick. For a long second, I can’t even find my voice. When I do, it’s high and squeaky. “What are you going to do about it?”
He holds his arms out then lets them fall against his scrubs. “What is there to do?”
“There’s gotta be something. Especially if the guy found out you know. Cross, that’s terrifying.”
“Yeah, my dad’s a terrifying guy.”
I don’t plan to tell him, especially after what happened a few minutes ago with that monitor when he got freaked out, but his face is so defeated, I can’t help myself. Cross is in danger and I have to tell him what I know and find out what he knows.
It takes me almost an hour with the two of us sitting hip to hip on his bed. I whisper near his ear as we play music on my phone in the background. He whispers back. When we’re finished, we get approval for Cross to leave the grounds tomorrow.
Chapter 31
Hunter
I’M IN MY library at the vineyard playing cards with myself when Marchant calls. I hit the fuck you button. My head is aching and I didn’t get a lick of sleep last night. I don’t want to talk to his hen-pecking ass. I’m sleeping worse since Libby left than I did before she got here. I guess I know now what I’m missing. I finish the game and re-deal my cards. I’m looking at them as I play, but I’m still seeing her face.
And I’m thinking about the other Libby—Dr. Libby—who called today, to “check in.” I know March put her up to it, but I can’t find the energy to be angry. It’s kind of nice to have my old shrink tell me I’m a good guy. Even nicer since it looks like that might hold.