Because I want to do something to thank Gunner for letting me stay at his place for the night, I head to the grocery store to get ingredients to make for spaghetti. I also buy fixings for garlic bread, which sounds really good right now. I still don’t know whether he has any plans to come back tonight before dinner. But for simplicity’s sake, and because it’s cheaper, I decide to get sauce in a jar instead of opting to make it from scratch. Everything that isn’t consumed tonight can be saved to be eaten later, either by him or me.

By the time I get back from the grocery store, it’s just before five o’clock. I put away the groceries, and then stand for a moment in the kitchen, trying to decide what to do. After the huge breakfast I had this morning at the diner, I was too full to eat lunch. Now it’s late enough that I’m finally starting to get hungry again, but early enough that it’s not really time for dinner yet. Which means it’s still too early to start cooking.

Feeling antsy, I leave the kitchen and go into the living room. Sinking down on the couch, I reflexively pull out my phone and check it for messages, as I’ve done countless times in the last couple of weeks. First, I look at my texts: nothing. I tap on Eden’s name in the history, to glance at the ones I’ve been sending her practically every day. As always, there’s no response — and more depressingly, not even any indication she’s read any of them.

I show no new phone calls, either.

For what must be the hundredth time, I consider whether I should try to call her again. Calling is the thing that ends up alarming me most — even more than the texts she doesn’t answer. Not only does she never pick up, but the phone always goes straight to voicemail. Which means that either her cell is dead, or she’s shut it off. Or maybe she’s just blocked me completely. I don’t know. But none of these possibilities is good.

With a sinking heart, I decide to try again. Just as I predicted, there’s no ring at all. Just a click and her voice telling me to leave a message. Eden sounds happy in her outgoing message — like she doesn’t have a care in the world. I know damn well it’s not true. It wasn’t true when she recorded it, for sure. And even if I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing, I know what she left behind.

And I know why she left it. At least I think I do.

I just wish I knew she was safe.

I don’t bother leaving a message. I’ve already left six others. If she’s listened to them and decided not to call me back, then leaving a seventh won’t change anything.

And if she hasn’t listened to them…

I don’t let myself go there. I’ve already been down that road too many times. I’ve already imagined every single possible scenario, from the best case to the worst. It just makes me feel crazy and helpless.

Maybe at least with Gunner’s help, I haven’t hit a total dead end.

Maybe he really can help me find her. Maybe not. But at least, for right now, I don’t feel quite so alone.

To kill some time before I start cooking dinner, I decide to treat myself to a shower.

It’s the first real shower I’ve had in two days, and I’m feeling pretty grimy. I wasn’t in that gross motel long enough to take a shower there — and even if I had been, I’m not sure I could have forced myself to climb into that filthy bathtub. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in this century.

I grab my tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner off the top of the dresser and take them into Gunner’s bathroom with me. The bathroom is small but clean, and the shower stall takes up almost half the space. I was in here earlier, hand washing my dress, but at the time I didn’t pay much attention to the shower itself. It’s surprisingly luxurious, with a big rainfall shower head and a separate wand thingy that you can use to rinse your hair out with. I sigh in happy anticipation as I poke my head into the tiny linen closet behind the door and pick out a small bath towel. Being careful to make sure the bathroom door is securely closed and locked, I turn on the water and peel off my T-shirt, jeans, underwear, and bra.

The water heats up almost instantly. When I have the temperature adjusted just the way I like it, I step inside the shower and audibly moan at how good it feels. The past couple of days have been woefully short on comfort. Yesterday started with a seven-hour car ride, then devolved into an unfortunate roofie experience, and ended with a night spent passed out on a rock-hard motel bed. Standing here in this steamy shower, the water temperature just exactly right, is almost a religious experience by comparison.

I close my eyes and let the droplets rain down on my skin. It feels so gentle, almost like a caress. In here, locked away from the world, I could almost forget that I’m standing in a strange man’s shower, with no idea what I’m doing here or how I’m going to find my sister. I could almost forget my troubles for a while.

Almost.

I stay like that for a few minutes, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply in and out. I try not to think about anything except how amazing it feels. I could probably fall asleep like this if I let myself. Eventually, though, I start to feel guilty for wasting water, so I open my eyes and start focusing on cleaning up. I pull the wrapper off the tiny soap I nabbed from the motel, inspecting it first to make sure it hasn’t been used before. Maybe that’s paranoid, but I wouldn’t put it past that dump. I soap myself up and rinse off, then portion out some of the cheap shampoo and lather it into my hair. The bottle’s almost halfway empty by now since I used it to wash my dress, too. I’m going to have to buy more if I plan to stay in the area much longer.

Which it’s starting to look like I may have to do.

Worried thoughts about my sister start worming themselves back into my head, but I push them away. Just for a few minutes, I tell myself. Just while I’m in the shower. I’ll start worrying about how the hell I’m going to find Eden again once I’m out.

I rinse out my hair with the hand wand and then apply some conditioner to the ends, working it in and then rinsing that out, as well. Then, all too quickly, I’m done. Regretfully, I turn off the water, and spend longer than I need to toweling off my body and hair. This bathroom feels like an artificial refuge from everything horrible that’s happened in my life the past few days. Hell, the past few months. Childishly, I wish I could just stay in here, and keep the world at bay.

But of course, I can’t. And that’s not why I’m here, anyway.

Even though they aren’t all that dirty, I don’t feel like putting my clothes back on, now that I’m clean. Instead, I wrap the towel around me and gather my jeans, shirt and panties in one hand. At the last minute, I decide to grab the shampoo and conditioner, as well. I don’t want Gunner to see them and think I’m planning on staying here any longer than necessary. Awkwardly, I turn the doorknob with my few free fingers and tiptoe out into the hallway toward my room.

“Hey.”

Adrenaline instantly shooting through my veins, I shriek loudly and whip around to see Gunner standing in the hallway. Fuck! The towel around me is barely large enough to cover what it needs to, and I clutch at it and desperately try to pull it up higher around my breasts. But since I’m also carrying a bunch of stuff, exactly the opposite happens: somehow, I completely lose my grasp on it.

Shampoo and conditioner bottles clatter to the floor, followed by my clothes.

And the towel.

“Well,” Gunner grins, licking his lips. “This is one hell of a welcome home.”