“Get some rest,” Dylan said again, and sat down.
She swallowed hard. “About earlier, at the Victorian Christmas—”
“Let’s not go into that, okay?”
“We should talk about it.” She wanted to talk about it, to tell him how she felt, but the hope she’d seen in his face earlier, when they were at Sexy Sadie’s, was gone.
“There’s nothing to say. We’ve both gone through too much. If we hook up with anyone, it needs to be someone who’s trusting and consistent and hasn’t screwed up in the past. I understand that. Joe’s perfect for you.”
Cheyenne could hardly breathe. She’d been through hell tonight. But, somehow, this cut the deepest. The moment she thought Joe might kiss her had clarified everything, showing her that what she felt for Dylan wasn’t to be taken for granted. It wasn’t mere attraction. Joe was better-looking. He’d always wanted to be a family man, so he was also a safer bet. She should’ve been thrilled to have his interest, especially after all the years she’d wanted it.
But being in Dylan’s arms felt like finding home. Maybe he was as battle-scarred as she was, but he understood her and her past. She’d never had such an affinity with anyone else.
She opened her mouth to say so but couldn’t imagine he’d care. She’d done everything she could to choke off what had blossomed so unexpectedly between them. “Right. Of course. I’m sorry,” she said, and went to her room.
* * *
Presley was halfway to Los Angeles before she realized where she was. Even then, she stopped driving only because she was out of gas. Her car had begun to sputter a few miles back as the sun peeked over the horizon, finally ending what felt like the longest night of her life. Now the Mustang wouldn’t go at all.
She’d taken Interstate 5, a long expanse of highway intended for travel between California’s bigger cities. Unlike Highway 99, which also connected Sacramento and Los Angeles, gas stations were few and far between. It wasn’t as if she was close to an exit, either. Music blaring, she’d passed the last one without even thinking about it and didn’t know where the next one would be. Neither did she care. She had nowhere to go. She just had to keep moving—like when she was a child and they’d gone from rest stop to rest stop, begging fellow travelers for enough change to buy something to eat.
As she got out of her car, she heard the deep blast of a semi’s horn and stumbled back. The sudden whoosh of air that accompanied it washed over her, whipping at her hair and clothes. She’d almost walked right into certain death.
Dazed, she stared at the double-trailer the semi was towing, watching the dirt eddies swirl in its wake and wondering if she would’ve felt it had she been hit. Maybe she would’ve escaped the pain of her life in the blink of an eye....
What was she going to do? Where would she go?
She had no idea. But the effect of the meth she’d smoked hours ago was wearing off. She had to find a way to get more. That was all she was thinking about when, minutes later, another trucker saw her walking on the side of the road and pulled over to see if she needed a ride.
* * *
Cheyenne’s phone woke her. She had it on vibrate, but as restless as she felt, that was enough to jar her from sleep. Blinking, she rolled over and grabbed it. She wanted to believe it was Presley calling. But she knew before she could clearly see caller ID that it wasn’t her sister. The name started with an R.
Riley. He was probably at the inn.
“Hello?” She was doing her best to come to full wakefulness, but she felt like she was buried beneath a thousand pounds of sand. To her own ears, she also sounded like it.
“Hey, what’s up? I didn’t wake you, did I?”
He must be wondering why she hadn’t checked in with him over the weekend. She’d told him she would.
She burrowed into the pillows. “What time is it?”
“Nearly two. I thought you’d be stopping by. I need to show you how the paint’s turning out in the central foyer. I don’t think it’s quite what you and Eve had in mind.”
“Um…” She shoved a hand through her hair. It was so difficult to switch gears and focus on work. Everything else came crashing down on her—Anita’s death, her sister’s possible culpability and subsequent disappearance, and bumping into Dylan while she was with Joe. “It happened last night,” she said simply.
“What happened last night?”
“My mother’s dead.”
He fell silent. Then he sighed. “Eve’s going to feel terrible she wasn’t here.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t replace Eve, but I’ll be right over.”
The door opened and Dylan appeared. Obviously, he’d heard her voice. “I’ve got to go,” he whispered. “There’s a problem over at the shop.”
She didn’t want him to leave, but she’d already asked him for more than she had a right to. She covered the phone. “There’s been no sign of Presley?”
“No.”
“Okay. Thanks for staying with me.”
He nodded and closed the door.
“Who was that?” Riley asked.
“My neighbor.”
“Which one?”
“Dylan Amos.”
“Really?”
She couldn’t help bristling at the inflection in Riley’s voice. “Yeah. He lives down the road so he kept me company after they took my mother away. Why are you so surprised?”
“It’s hard to imagine Dylan Amos being sympathetic enough to support you.”
It wasn’t hard for her. Maybe he didn’t look all that respectable, but he’d always protected the people he cared about. “He’s actually…not what everyone thinks.”
“What is he, then?”
She hadn’t completely decided. But she knew he was a lot better than he’d been given credit for. “He’s nice.”
“I’ll take your word for it. If he ever asks, tell him I think he’s nice, too.”
He was teasing. “Stop it,” she said with a reluctant laugh.
“I’m not going to get in his way.”
She smiled at Riley’s exaggerated tone. “He would never hurt you.”
“He won’t if I don’t cross him. Anyway, I’m coming over.”
“No, don’t.” Even though she felt drugged, she forced herself to sit up. “My sister’s gone missing. I have to go out and find her.”