Ben

I paced around like a lion in a cage as I waited for someone to call me. My first instinct had been to run out and join the search, but Eric convinced me to stay at home so I could be there if Elle returned. She was going to need me if she did. At least I hoped she would, and that I wasn’t the reason she had run away. I’d no doubt contributed to whatever was bothering her, but I hoped I wasn’t to blame.

But I had to focus on Elle, and it no longer seemed as important to figure out the whys as it was to find her. We could, and would, talk later, but right now I had to focus like a laser on getting her back.

When my phone finally rang, I answered so fast I cut off the first notes. “Have you found her, Eric?”

“Not yet, Mr. Hudson. We’re still looking. I was just checking in to see if you’ve had any luck checking out your ex-wife. Did she have Elle?”

I let out a long sigh of frustration. “I haven’t heard anything back from the person I sent to check. I’ve called her a few times, and she’s not answering her phone.” I didn’t want to figure out if it was because I had lost touch with Lindsay, because it meant she couldn’t report about Ashe. I didn’t think Ashe would hurt her even if she did recognize her, but the fear was there in the back of my mind.

“We’ll keep at it, and I’ll check in again with you in a little while. If you hear back about Ashe, don’t forget to let me know, please.”

I hung up without bothering to reply, realizing how rude it was, but not caring. I was too busy trying to call Lindsay’s number yet again. It went straight to voicemail just as it had the last couple of times. Was her phone turned off? Was she okay?

Dozens of scenarios formed in my head, none of them good. I kept circling back to the idea that Lindsay must have approached Ashe upon seeing Elle with her, and Ashe hadn’t wanted to give Elle to Lindsay. I was worried she had hurt Lindsay or Elle in a drug-induced panic. It was all just imaginings without any basis in fact, but the idea was feeding my panic.

Before I really had time to think about it, I was calling Hector on my cell phone as I headed for the elevator. I arranged to meet him out front as I grabbed my jacket. I was in such a state of nervous tension that I briefly considered running down sixty-six flights of stairs, as though it would make me reach the ground faster. It was difficult, but I forced myself to stand and wait for the elevator, which took a surprising amount of patience.

When I reached the lobby. Bill called out to me, but all I could do was give him a vague wave as I ran for the limousine. I let myself in, having relayed Hector the urgency of the situation, and he was already driving before I even put on my seatbelt. “You remember Ashe’s address?” I asked him.

“Yes, sir. I drove her there after you bought the place for her, when she moved out of the Imperial.”

“That’s where we’re headed.”

“Yes, sir.”

I let go of the intercom button and leaned back against the leather seat, dialing Lindsay’s number over and over and still getting no response as we sped across the city.

By the time we reached Ashe’s place almost an hour later, I was frantic with worry for both Elle and Lindsay. I didn’t wait for Hector to open the door, just slid out and stomped up the steps of the brownstone. I pressed the button to signal my arrival with gritted teeth, wishing I could avoid contact with her.

“Hello?” She sounded sleepy.

“Ashe, this is Ben. Buzz me up.”

She sounded slurred, I realized, rather than sleepy, when she spoke. “Ben? What are you doing here?”

“Is Elle with you?”

To my surprise, the door buzzed open a second later, and I was able to step inside. It was a nice building, and I should know, because I paid for it. That had been part of the divorce settlement, but I considered it a negligible amount to be rid of her. I hurried through the marble foyer to the bank of elevators and took one to the fifth floor. It was far slower than the elevator in my building, and this time I wished I had run up the stairs. I marched down the hall as soon as it opened and barely pounded once on her door when she appeared.

In spite of my panic, I couldn’t help but stare at her for a moment. Ashe had always been a willowy blonde, but now she bordered on emaciated. Her cheekbones were sharp enough to cut glass, and there were bags under her eyes. Her normally silvery-blonde hair, which had been one of the first things I noticed about her and was actually natural, had started to gray. It looked dry yet oily and was on the dingy side. Despite the expensive clothes she wore, I knew right away she was using again, if she’d ever bothered to stop—beyond the pretense of going to rehab.

I stepped inside her apartment. She moved back a bit and regarded me archly.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Ashe?”

She glared. “Mind your own business, asshole. You lost the right to have any opinion on my life when you kicked me out.”

“You were using drugs in front of our daughter, and it wasn’t the first time. I couldn’t let you stay. I had to keep her safe, even if it was from her own mother.”

She gave me a mocking sneer. “You sure have done an excellent job since you don’t even know where she is. She’s missing. What did she do, run away?”

I nodded once, bitterness filling my mouth and leaving a sour taste. Ashe was right. I hadn’t done a better job protecting her than my drug-addicted ex-wife had. “Is she with you?”

For just a moment, her expression softened showing her vulnerability. “Elle didn’t come to me. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” I made the assurance automatically, but there was no confidence in my tone. I really didn’t know if Elle hated Ashe. I doubted she did, but she was angry and confused, and she felt abandoned. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”

Ashe shook her head. “Why would I? She doesn’t tell me anything.”

“That might change if you ever bothered to show up for her visitation.”

“They’re always watching me.”

I shrugged. “You have proven you aren’t trustworthy not to have supervised visitation. It’s the social worker’s job to watch you.”

She glared at me. “It’s so easy for you to judge. You aren’t there, and you don’t have to deal with strangers watching your every movement.”

“If I did, it wouldn’t keep me from visiting my daughter as often as possible. Ask if she hates you, and the truth is, I don’t know. If she does, it’s probably with good reason.” I regretted the words as I said them, realizing there was no satisfaction in lashing out at this poor woman. She was already broken enough that she didn’t need me to help her fall the rest of the way.

She screamed and ran at me, her fingers curled so she could claw my face. I managed to mostly block the blow, though I felt the sharp sting of her nails tear through the flesh of my cheek as I pushed her away. She kept coming, trying to hit me, so I grabbed her wrists and eased her away as carefully as I could. I was trying not to hurt her, but she wouldn’t calm down. Finally, I ended up pushing her against the wall and making her stay there until she dissolved into a fit of sobs. At that point, I let go, and she slowly slid down the wall. She looked up at me through the veil of tears in her eyes. “Just go away and never come back. You’ve already ruined my life.”

I flinched. “How did I ruin your life? All I ever did was work and try to make things better for all of us. I didn’t cheat on you, I wasn’t an addict or an alcoholic, and I didn’t beat you.”

“You were never there. You weren’t there for me, and now you aren’t there for Elle either. I know what a mess I am, and I know how much I’ve screwed up Elle, but do you have any clue what you’ve done? You’re just as responsible for her being fucked up in the head as I am.”

“I wish I’d never met you.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “I make that wish just about every day.”

Shaking my head, I turned and strode from her apartment as her words worked their way beneath my skin. I tried to tell myself they were just ravings of a high, angry woman, but was there kernel of truth to her accusations? Had I destroyed Elle in some way by not being there for her? I refused to accept the blame for Ashe’s addiction, since Eric had learned during the divorce that she had been a user for years before we got married, but I couldn’t so easily cast aside the idea that I was to blame somehow for Elle’s problems too. I know the divorce had been rough on her, but it hadn’t been a picnic for me either.

As I made my way back to the limousine, finally sitting there in the seat and brooding, I examined my actions and winced when I realized that not much had changed on my end.

I had to admit it. There was some validity to Ashe’s accusation that I hadn’t been there enough. Even after the divorce, I hadn’t cut down my hours or found a way to make more time for Elle. I’d hired a couple of nannies who hadn’t lasted, before thrusting the problem mostly on Betsy and Margot, since Elle would sometimes listen to them. It had been easier to pretend like everything was fine, or on its way back to fine, because it meant I didn’t have to make any changes.

It was obvious now that once I had her home, I had to shift some priorities and focus more on Elle. She was far more important than the company I had built from scratch, and I needed to prove to her that she was the most important thing in my life. She might never get that reassurance from Ashe, but I didn’t want her doubting for one second that her father loved her with all his heart.

Lindsay would be there to support her as well, though that realization left me out of sorts. Keeping Lindsay around was a temptation I wasn’t sure I could withstand, but I didn’t want to fall in love again. My sole experience with Ashe had been a disaster, and we still had the ability to hurt each other even two years after our split. It wasn’t safe to love anyone, and I refused to do it. I didn’t want to hurt Lindsay, and I certainly didn’t want her to leave Elle, but I couldn’t risk committing my heart to her. It was something I would have to figure out after Elle was home.

She would be home. She had to come home.