Chapter Seventeen

Lauren

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the silence, which I find strange since I remember hearing the sound of the rain during the night.

The next thing I notice is the absence.

Chase isn’t beside me on the bed, just the pillow, which immediately raises my suspicion. I sit up, clutching the quilt to my bare chest. As my eyes scour the room, my heart beating double time, I find no sign of him.

Maybe he’s in the bathroom?

But no. The bathroom door is open and the light isn’t on.

Maybe he went out?

Then my gaze rests on the note and the wad of cash on the nightstand and my heart sinks, shattering into a million fragments on its way to the floor.

I reach for the clock, lifting it so I can get the folded piece of paper that’s under it. With quivering fingers, I unfold it, my eyes restlessly going over the handwritten text.

Lauren,

As you read this, I’ll be far away. I’m going to set things right once and for all. No more hiding or running away. I’m going to find the truth, face it, and deal with it. I’m going to take back what is mine and my mother’s.

Don’t look for me. Don’t follow me. Stay safe. Wait for me if you can. If I survive, I’ll come back for you when all this is over. If I don’t, forget all about me and have a good life. Leave the ranch. Spread your wings. Go for your dreams. You are an amazing woman, Lauren, and you deserve to experience the world and all the best it has to offer.

I was able to – through you.

If you can’t wait for me, I’ll understand, too. Just be happy.

Love,

Chester

P.S. Say sorry to Isaac for me. I never meant to hurt him. I wish you both not just a little peace but all of it.

I fold the note, which is now stained with a few teardrops, then let it slip from my fingers, falling on my lap without a sound.

For a moment, I just sit there, frozen, tears quietly trickling down my cheeks as I play the words over and over again in my head so that they can sink in.

When they do, I lay back down, letting my head dent the pillow and pulling the quilt up to my shaking shoulders as I sob uncontrollably, my emotions spilling out.

Sadness. Abandonment. Confusion. Disappointment. Betrayal. Anger.

And most of all, pain seizing my chest, washing over me and crushing my heart again and again.

How could Chase have left me? Didn’t he say he loved me?

I hug the pillow beside me tighter, my tears forming a puddle on the cover as I breathe in what’s left of Chase’s scent.

Forget him, he said. But how can I when his touches are carved into my skin, his smile embedded in my memory? How can I forget him when he’s the first man I’ve ever had sex with, his cum still between my thighs? How can I forget him after what he said to me, after all the things we’ve done, all the things he’s made me feel? How can I forget him when he’s the only man I’ve ever loved?

I run my fingers over the bruise left by his kiss, remembering it. It’s still tender, still reddish. A souvenir, he called it. A parting gift.

But not if I have anything to say about it.

Sitting up with the pillow against my chest, I wipe my tears with the back of my hand and read the letter again, trying to make sense of it.

I can’t. It doesn’t make sense.

Why would he go off and leave me here when we left the ranch together?

Fine. Maybe he didn’t want to bring me along. Maybe he just did because I was stubborn, insistent. He couldn’t shake me off.

Well, now, he’s done that.

At least, that’s what he thinks.

Chase thinks I’ll drive back home to the ranch, reconcile with my father and go on with my life until he shows up again, as unexpected as he did the first time.

But no. I’m not going home. If he’s not going to run away or hide, neither will I. If he’s going to set things right, I’ll help him. I’ll help him take what is his back and then I’ll take back what is mine.

I fold the note again, tossing it on the nightstand before getting out of bed, heading to the bathroom.

I know. I know he said not to follow him but I’m not. I’m just following my heart. And I know it’s going to be dangerous. But that’s all the more reason for me to go after him, to go with him. It’s too dangerous for him to face alone.

Besides, he said he loved me and he still does, having mentioned the word toward the end of the note. He signed with his real name, too, which means that regardless of who he is, he loves me. He truly loves me.

I’m not going to let him do this alone.

I wash my face, taking note of the bits of hair stuck to the sink, which weren’t there yesterday.

He shaved?

That means he’ll be more easily recognized, which makes the situation even more dangerous.

I have to hurry.

I brush my teeth as fast as I can then put on the only clothes I have – the collared blouse and pleated skirt I was wearing yesterday along with the college sweater. Then I slip on my shoes and grab the cash Chase left me on the nightstand, along with the car keys in the drawer, which I toss inside my pocket. I grab the keys to the room as well and leave the room with the bed still unmade and the sheets stained with sweat, sex, and tears.

As I take the stairs down two at a time, I utter a silent prayer that I’m not too late, that I can find him before he gets into any real trouble.

Find him where? I don’t know. But there’s only one place I know where to look for him.

---

The Donahue mansion stands in front of me, towering over the black iron gates, grand and imposing as it was the first time I laid eyes on it.

That first time, I was filled with shock and awe, unable to believe the man I was attracted to was one of those preppy, billion-dollar guys. Now, I’m filled with dread, knowing what’s likely in store for me there.

Still, I swallow the lump in my throat, take a deep breath and walk forward.

I don’t dare approach the gate. I’m well aware of the cameras perched there and of the fact that no one will open the gate for me even if I ring the doorbell. Instead, I walk around the house, following the iron fence.

As I walk, my knees shaking, I stare at the mansion through the gaps in the fence and the aspens, peering over the trimmed hedge.

The side of the mansion is just like the front, with columns and more French windows and elegant balconies. At least, the upper half is. Something seems to be going on with the back rooms of the first and second floors, the walls torn down and construction supplies lying around.

A renovation?

I focus my gaze on the windows upstairs as I duck to avoid the cameras, hoping to catch a glimpse of Chase. All I catch is a glimpse of a maid in a black and white uniform shaking some linens on a balcony.

I continue walking, my heart tumbling with each step I take as the voice in my head screams louder for me to leave. I ignore it.

Eventually, I reach the back of the house. My eyes grow wide at the pool, which I’m sure is as big as the ones they use at the Olympics, its sapphire surface glistening under the sun. I catch a glimpse of the greenhouse, too, and the pavilion where the Donahues must hold their lavish parties.

Oh, Kelly would die to be at one of those parties.

Already, I can imagine the wealthy guests all dressed in expensive, designer clothes, the women with their hats, their gloves, and their diamonds and the men in their crisp, tailored tuxedos, signature colognes, and gleaming watches. I can imagine the flashes of cameras going off, the men and women in black and white uniforms carrying trays of champagne as they go about the crowd. I can almost hear the music playing.

I shake my head. I’m not here to daydream. I’m here on a very important and dangerous mission.

Taking another deep breath, I square my shoulders and walk on, trying to look for an opening in the fence.

Surely, there must be another besides the main gate, a smaller one that isn’t as tightly guarded, for the use of the staff.

Suddenly, I spot it – a back gate that’s black and made of iron like the one in front but much smaller, more narrow and harder to see, the bushes beside it almost concealing it.

Perfect.

I make my way there but stop, my face growing pale and cold sweat breaking out of my nape as I feel a hand suddenly grab my own from behind.

Shit.