“About what?” Ava asked.

“About everything. About what happened to Camille. About keeping us apart. The guilt practically pours from his face when he passes me in the corridor. He knows he screwed up, and he wasn’t even the one doing the real damage. I don’t like him—not even close—but then again…” He dropped his takeout box in the trash can, even though it was still half full. He shook his head, knotting his fingers behind his neck on a sigh. “Camille loved him. He protected her fiercely. He gave her the love and guidance their parents didn’t. And I refuse to believe that’s the same man who pulls shit like this.”

“I haven’t heard from him in almost three days.” I cleared my throat, looking down at the takeout box in my lap. What the hell had I ordered, anyway? I’d thought it was orange chicken and noodles, but now that I looked, it was stir-fried seafood and rice. I’d eaten a quarter of it without even tasting it. Just how messed up was I?

My heart is not a lonely hunter.

My heart feels. It beats. It loves. It breaks.

It breaks. Oh, God. It is breaking right now, to pieces, and there is nothing I can do to patch it back together. I’m falling apart right along with it.

My phone pinged. I refused to look down and chance everyone seeing how my face twisted in agony and disappointment when I found out yet again that it wasn’t Célian. I took a sip of my water.

Another ping.

Then another.

Then another.

Phoenix’s phone started pinging, too, but he wasn’t a coward. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned. “Jude?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Kate. There’s an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. NOAA is freaking out, and there’s an official statement coming in half a second. We need to go upstairs right now.”

We both shot from our seats at the same time. Adrenaline pumped in my veins. Phoenix took my hand and tugged me into the elevator. He didn’t let go, even once we were in inside. When our eyes met, he squeezed my palm.

“Want the truth?” he asked.

I grimaced. “Getting tired of the lies, that’s for sure.”

“That day, when I met you at the library, I wanted to hit on you. I thought, for the first time since Camille, that I’d found something good.”

My eyelashes fluttered, my breath hitching. “Oh?”

“Then the next day, I saw you at your desk. Célian walked over to you. He looked down. You looked up. Your eyes met. He fought a smile. I had a déjà vu moment. Because the last time his face lit up like that was when Camille busted his balls for one thing or another. No one else ever made him smile. So I couldn’t do it to him. Or to you. Or to me.”

He let go when we arrived at the newsroom. Kate was ushering people to the conference room for an emergency meeting.

Célian wasn’t there.

Mathias was.

Half my co-workers ended up spending the night in the newsroom to cover the oil spill. All evening people ran around asking where Célian was, but no one had an answer. I overheard stories from the same folks who’d so kindly made false assessments about my motives and personality when my boss had announced we were dating.

They said he had never missed an important item in his life, that he’d once shown up to work with a fever and lung infection to cover the Michael Flynn case with the Russians, that he was probably really eager to get back with his beautiful, albeit crazy, fiancée.

Kate sent me home when the clock hit eleven. She probably had mercy on me since I didn’t live around the block. She also knew about Dad, and I wished she didn’t, because I didn’t want to be the token charity case.

“Jude, grab your things. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“I can stay,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t mind pulling an all-nighter. I hadn’t slept much during my first year of college, between working two jobs and keeping my grades up.

Kate momentarily tore her gaze from the monitor she stared at. “No. You’ve already gathered all information I need. I want you to go home.”

Arguing with her was just going to eat away her precious time, and besides, she wasn’t wrong. I needed to check on Dad. I grabbed my bag and walked toward the elevator, a pang of guilt slicing my conscience as I watched everyone else still hard at work.

I’d called the elevator when a hand clasped my shoulder, swiveling me around. It was Kate. Her normally snowy cheeks were red, and she looked flustered and out of sorts.

“If I knew where he was, I’d tell you,” she said, her breathing heavy from running.

“I know.” I smiled softly. “But I wouldn’t expect you to. Whatever Célian does with his life is none of my business, and it will not affect my performance here.”

Kate pressed her forehead to the cool wall beside us, squeezing her eyes shut. She looked tired. I got it. She was sans Célian and short on staff. “He’ll have some serious explaining to do once he finally gets back here.”

The elevator slid open and I stepped inside, giving her a thumbs-up. For the very first time I thought, and explain he might, but I will not be listening anymore.

I was about to round the corner and turn onto my street when a limo pulled up at the curb and the passenger door flung open. My eyes widened, and I stopped in an instant. My dad was no Liam Neeson, and if I was going to get kidnapped, I very much doubted I could be saved. I turned around to look at the person getting out of the vehicle. It was Lily, dressed to impress in what looked like a cocktail gown. She seemed to be alone.