SOMEHOW, I’D CONVINCED myself that Natalie would simply go back downstairs to her bedroom and stay there—that maybe she’d shut me out for a while, but then we could have a rational discussion and sort everything out like the adults we were.
It was easy to believe that when I heard the door to her room close, followed by a tense, crackling silence that ate away at me. The stillness allowed me to run through that conversation on repeat in my mind, listening to it again and again so many times that I couldn’t help but think of all the ways I could have handled it better. Frankly, I doubted I could have handled it worse. Maybe if I’d told her to leave, but not much else would have qualified, and there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d ever tell her anything of the sort.
The longer I lay there, the more certain I was that I’d fucked up royally. I couldn’t let her leave. And not just because Hayes and his asshole friends and my father were all still out there, either. It was more than just a desire to protect her, to shield her from all the shittier parts of life that she’d already experienced more than her fair share of. Hell, it wasn’t even just because I wanted to set an example for my kid of the kind of man I hoped he would grow up to become.
It went far deeper than all of that; I couldn’t let her leave because I loved her. I needed Natalie in my life, and I needed her to know that. That explained my overprotectiveness of her, my need to be sure that Hayes paid for what he’d done to her. It explained the way my stomach clenched in fear anytime I thought of someone hurting her.
I loved her.
And sitting around and waiting for the right moment to tell her how I felt wouldn’t do either of us any good.
Just when I’d finally made up my mind to go downstairs and admit to my own idiocy, Snoopy let out a bark and raced to the window the way he always did when a car pulled into the driveway.
Then the front door opened and closed.
No. This couldn’t be happening.
When I reached the window, all I could see was an unfamiliar silver car driving away. I squinted to make out the license plate number, but it was no use—the car was already halfway down the street, too far away for me to see without superhuman bionic vision—and clearly, I was no superhero. I couldn’t be any less heroic if I’d tried.
Fuck.
I bolted down the stairs and out the front door, but the car might as well have disappeared in thin air.
It was gone.
Natalie was gone.
I’d royally fucked up.
Snoopy yapped at my side, his ears low and his tail tucked between his legs. He knew something was wrong, too.
“Come on,” I muttered, pointing him back into the house.
He barked at me, then followed it up with a low, discontented rumble.
“I know it,” I said. “I was an idiot, okay? But what do you want me to do? I don’t know where she went.”
He barked again and then whined.
“Maybe she called one of the girls to come get her,” I said, trying to explain it to myself as much as to the dog. I hoped that was the case. If she’d gone with Dana Zellinger or Tallie Fielding or one of the other WAGs, she’d be fine. Maybe not emotionally fine, but she’d be safe. And at the moment, safe would have to be good enough.
But I didn’t recognize the car she’d gotten into—a fact that gnawed at me from the inside out.
I waited for Snoopy to do his business and then herded him back into the house. After starting a cup of coffee in the Keurig, I headed back upstairs and grabbed my phone off the charger. Then I shot off a quick text message to a few of the WAGs, asking if Natalie had contacted them and if she was on her way to their houses.
Within seconds, my phone started to light up with their responses.
London: What the fuck did you do?
Tallie: She’s not on her way here. At least not as far as I know.
Dana: Why would she leave like that?
London: Because Bear did something stupid. Has to be.
Dana: I’m texting her now. Hold on.
Viktoriya: Not here.
Ravyn: Do you want us to help you look for her? Drew and I can be at your house in 10.
London: Dima says you’re an idiot.
London: Actually, I’m not sure what he said. It was a mix of Russian, English, and Dima. But whatever it was, he’s right, and I concur.
London: But seriously, what did you do?
Dana: She’s not answering. I texted and called.
Ravyn: Should we file a missing person’s report?
Tallie: She has to be missing for 24 hours first. Doesn’t she?
Dana: I think so.
Viktoriya: Razor said the guys will all look for her.
London: She’s not missing. She’s here.
And just like that, I could breathe again. I wasn’t the praying sort, but for the first time in recent memory, I said a silent prayer of thanks. Maybe I’d been a huge idiot, but at least my idiocy hadn’t resulted in Natalie falling into Hayes’s hands again.
Me: Tell her I’m on my way over to get her.
London: No, you’re not. She doesn’t want you to come.
She didn’t want me? Ouch. That hurt a lot more of me than merely my pride. But we needed to talk, and the only way that was going to happen was if I went over there and picked her up.
Me: I’m coming anyway.
London: Dima will hold you down while I cut off your balls if you so much as step foot within fifty feet of my house. Understand? She doesn’t want you here. Don’t make me turn you into Reek. Or Varys. Or whoever.
That hurt more than anything else could have. Not London’s threats—but the fact that Natalie didn’t want me to come get her. The fact that I’d fucked up so badly that she’d run from me.
I was supposed to be protecting her from all the shit in the world, but instead, I was causing even more of it.
I wanted to hit something. Someone.
No, not just any random someone. I wanted to hit Hayes. And my father. And everyone else who had played any part in hurting Natalie.
But by that standard, I ought to hit myself.
I threw a pillow at the wall, more disappointed in myself than I could ever remember feeling before. Snoopy whimpered and jumped up to sit beside me, burrowing his face in my lap for comfort.
Not that it helped.
Nothing could help me now.