Where We Belong (Carolina Rebels Book 8)

by Lindsay Paige

“What?” All the fight leaves Cal.

  “You’re engaged to him?”

  I quickly shake my head. “Never.”

  “Then what is going on?”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Cal interjects. “He says she’s going back to him, Collin. That this was a break for them after a fight. That she’s come to her senses.”

  “Jules.” The pleading in Collin’s voice says it all, but still, he says, “You gotta say something.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me,” he replies instantly.

  “He’s an ex-boyfriend who won’t leave me alone.” That’s the simplest way to explain it.

  Collin isn’t happy with that either. His brows furrow as he frowns. “You haven’t mentioned dating anyone for,” he pauses, doing the math, “almost three years.” Yep. And one of those years has been full of living in this hell. When I nod, he shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense,” he repeats what his brother has already stated. “He’s been chasing you and you didn’t tell me? Why would he say you’re engaged if you aren’t? Why would you take this photo?” He snatches it out of my hand and holds it to my face. “Why would you do this if something wasn’t going on? You’re fucking smiling in the picture, Julie.”

  Not a real smile. But it’s in that moment of hesitation that Collin’s faith in me slips a step too far.

  “Maybe it’s best if you did leave for the night; I don’t need this shit right now when we’re in the middle of the playoffs.”

  And that is when Collin does what he has never done before; he chooses hockey over me.

  He’s right, though. Now is not the time to explain. We can be saved later. I need to deal with Dwight one way or another. With a curt nod, I grab my purse and walk out the door, expecting to be nabbed at any second.

  He’s watching; I know he is. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck are standing tall from the eerie sensation. Once in my car, I call Deanna, asking if I can stay the night. She doesn’t let me down, and for that, I’m thankful. It’s my last night of peace, I’m sure, before Dwight makes my life hell.

  I stand in front of Deanna’s door for the longest time, debating if I should knock or turn around and return to Collin.

  “Oh, you make this too easy, angel.”

  I don’t get the chance to scream before everything goes black.

  My eyes return to that picture, over and over again. The more I look at it, the more it looks staged and the more Julie looks like she’s forcing herself to look happy. With a sigh, I eventually make my way to my room to stand in front of my closet. If I can distract myself, maybe this will turn out to be a dream instead of a mystery.

  I stand there and stare for the longest time. At some point, I begin to rearrange things because our closet is a fucking mess and this gives me something to do, something to focus on.

  What is this box? I thought Julie opened this. Wasn’t it a gift from her parents or something? One second I’m about to put it in its new place and the next I’m ripping the box open. The blood drains from my face. There is picture on top of picture on top of yet another picture. All of Julie. What the fuck?

  Then I have a terrifying thought.

  What is else Julie keeping from me in my own closet?

  I tear the closet apart and come across another box. This one has folders inside. And what I find terrifies me.

  This is what Julie was trying to say, but couldn’t for some reason.

  It’s police report after police report about a Dwight Travis breaking a restraining order numerous times, and then there are the reports about the abuse. Oh, god. My Jules. Why couldn’t you tell me this?

  After about the tenth report, I scramble to my feet. Julie left this apartment with a fucking lunatic after her!

  And I made her go.

  I slip on my shoes, still in sweats and a T-shirt from earlier, and soon cross the hall to bang on my brother’s door. He needs to help me not lose my shit while I try to find Julie.

  “What?” he answers with a snap a minute later.

  “We need to find Julie.”

  “Why?” he asks, a little more alert now.

  “Get dressed and I’ll explain.”

  And I do. Cal may not like Julie all that much, but no one can miss the concern on his face by the time I finish telling and showing him what I found.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No. I figured we could check Brayden’s since she’s friends with Deanna before we start hunting down hotels.”

  And that’s when my phone rings with a call from Deanna.

  “Hey,” I answer. “Is Julie with you? Is she okay?”

  “She’s not with you? She said she needed a place to crash because you two got into it over her secret, but she never showed.”

  Oh fuck.

  “What, Brayden?” There’s a pause and then, as if she’s scared to say the words, “Brayden says her car is parked in the driveway. Otis did bark a little bit ago; maybe that was her. But where is she?” I don’t get a chance to speak before Deanna says with fear, “Collin, I think something has happened to Julie. Brayden just found her purse on the front porch.”

  “Call the police and tell them she’s been abducted; I’m on my way.” I hang up without another word.

  “We’ll find her,” Cal says.

  We better. Whatever happens to her will be my fault. I did the one thing I was never supposed to do: I didn’t take the time to get to the bottom of what was going on. Instead, I fucking asked her to leave. I’m the reason she’s in danger. What the fuck was wrong with me? For years, I’ve waited for Julie and this part of our life to begin, yet I didn’t even fight when she needed me the most. When I get her back, there is a ton of begging for forgiveness I have to do.

  “It’s not your fault,” Cal says, reading my mind.

  “All that matters is finding Julie.”

  By the time we pull into Brayden’s driveway, police have already arrived. Talking to them and showing them what I found at home is excruciating. They eventually send us home, concluding that it is very likely Julie was indeed taken.

  Sleep isn’t an option.

  Focus isn’t one either, especially when I get an update that one reason why Dwight wasn’t in jail is because he’s successfully evaded the police in Florida for the past year. Hearing that doesn’t bring hope that Julie will be found in a timely manner either. If at all. But I can’t think like that because it’s not going to help anything.

  I thought I felt helpless in the darkest moments of despair when dealing with the worst of my anxiety. That is a drop of water compared to the ocean of helplessness I feel right now. How could I do this to her? How could I do this to us? One decision and everything could be ruined. Julie might not even come back to me.

  God, I can’t think like that. She will be fine. She will come home.

  But the day passes with me sitting at home.

  And the night passes without much sleep.

  Then while my girlfriend is missing, I have to attend practice. This is the very last place I want to be. Cal was adamant that I tell the team what’s going on with Julie, but I’ve refused. Brayden knows and that’s good enough for me. If I can’t help Julie, then I need to do what I can to help my team. I don’t even know if I can play well enough to do such a thing, but I will definitely try.

  Is Julie going to hate me for doing my job while she could be enduring hell?

  “Collin.”

  I look up to see an empty room, except for Brayden and me.

  “You don’t have to be here,” he says.

  “Where else am I supposed to be?”

  The silence that lingers says enough.

  “Look, if you’re going to stay, then get your head on straight. Otherwise, you’re only going to fuck up and you don’t need that on your shoulders either. Let’s go.” He turns and walks out without waiting to see if I’ll follow.

  And I do follow because what else am I supposed to do? S
itting here won’t help Julie just like sitting at home won’t help her. Might as well help my team.

  Like old times, when my skate touches the ice, the world disappears. I shut everything down except for the here and now and what’s before me. The most important thing right now is doing drills and practicing plays. My thoughts are reduced to simple sentences involving what actions I need to take next.

  My perfect, no-problem world crashes the minute we’re done and I see a missed call from the police department. There’s a voicemail, so I listen to that first. Two minutes later and I discover what a pointless call that was. They don’t have a trace of where Julie might be and it sounds like they are discouraged further after speaking more with the detective in charge of Julie’s case back in Florida.

  As if there’s a chance she’ll answer, I call Julie.

  It rings.

  And rings.

  And rings.

  And then goes to her voicemail.

  “Jules,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry. We’ll get you home. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll get you home. I love you.” With nothing else to say, I hang up.

  Needing someone to talk to, I text Trace and ask if I can come in, throwing in that it’s urgent. By the time I’m ready to leave the facility, there’s a message that I can come as soon as I can. Something is urging me to talk to him and now is not the time for me to get fucked up in the head. Julie needs me too much.

  I’m in such a mess with my jumbled thoughts and my anxiety rising up to pump through my veins that it’s not until I’m standing in front of a surprised receptionist that I realize my mistake. I’m fully recognizable right now. No hat; it’s at home. No sunglasses; forgot them in the truck. No hoodie; it’s at home too. Holy shit.

  I take a seat closest to the door that leads to the back. With a deep breath, I brave a peek around the waiting room. It’s pretty full with about seven other people in here. And one is looking me dead in the eyes.

  Fuck.

  Without any covertness, he takes his phone out and snaps a photo.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Mr. Grey?”

  I stand and follow the lady to Trace’s office. His eyes widen the moment he sees me. “I know. I forgot and I’ve already had my picture taken. We have bigger problems.”

  If possible, his eyes grow. “Take a seat and talk to me.”

  “Julie and I sort of fought because some guy claiming he was her fiancé talked to Cal and said as much. I asked her to leave because I figured I need to focus on hockey right now instead of whatever the fuck was going on. Turns out, he’s a stalker and now, she’s been taken and I don’t know what the fuck to do. The police don’t act hopeful for finding her because he’s been out of their reach for a year.”

  Trace leans back in his seat, as if he’s taking in all that I’ve told him. “Sit down, Collin. Take a moment to breathe.”

  I can’t, so I don’t.

  “Okay,” he says, conceding. “How long has she been gone?”

  “Since last night. I don’t know if I should be practicing and playing, but if I don’t, I’ll be at home, driving myself crazy. Everything feels wrong. I need to figure out how to find her and bring her home before he hurts her worse than the last time he had her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Right. I explain how I found Julie at the airport and how it’s apparent he was responsible for that. But I don’t know how Julie got away. Did he let her go? Did she escape? Could she do it again? At what point is he going to start hurting her again? What if they are no longer in North Carolina?

  “What am I supposed to do?” I ask.

  “I can’t tell you how to cope, Collin. You need to figure out what is best going to help you handle it until Julie comes home. If being with the team helps, do that and don’t feel guilty about it. If being at home helps, do that and the team will understand. If you need to park yourself at the police department until you get some news, do that. Whatever will keep you strongest until she gets home because she’ll need you to be at your best when she gets back.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you want to talk about the photo?”

  I glance up in confusion from where I’d been staring at the floor. “What?”

  “You said someone took your photo in the waiting room.”

  “Oh. Right. No. I’ll deal with that later.”

  The only thing that matters right now is Julie.

  “Jules. I’m so sorry. We’ll get you home. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll get you home. I love you.”

  My eyes squeeze closed at the sound of Collin’s tortured voice.

  “Isn’t that sweet. Lover boy thinks you’re going home.” Dwight laughs. “He sounds like such a pansy; what were you doing with him, Julie? Really?”

  It’s not as if I can respond to him; there’s duct tape over my mouth.

  “We’re almost there, angel. Back to where we began.”

  I’ve been lying in the backseat of this car since Dwight stuffed me in it. He has my wrists and ankles taped together. He’s been driving on and off since last night; we should have gotten to Florida already, but he keeps stopping for no reason and for longer than necessary. My bladder is about to burst because he’s yet to allow me to get out.

  When we finally stop, my heart breaks to see where we are. No wonder it took longer than it should have. We’re in the Keys. Dwight cuts the tape from my ankles and pulls me out of the car.

  “Let’s go inside, angel. We have much to do and discuss.” He leads me inside a shady-looking house. I look around, hoping someone will see me, but there’s not a soul around. How is this possible? Where is everyone?

  The inside is bare, except for a couch that looks disgusting with stains in various places. I jerk my arm when he leads me there. He raises an eyebrow. I nod toward the hallway and the bathroom I can see from here.

  “Oh, forgive me!” He hurries us to the bathroom. Then he proceeds to lower my bottoms so I can do what I need to while he watches over me. Privacy doesn’t exist as long as Dwight is around. He did this last time we were together, so I’m not shocked. I also have to go so badly that I don’t care what he does. Thankfully, he does cut the tape over my hands so I can take care of myself.

  But as soon as I wash my hands, back goes the tape. As soon as I’m on the couch, the same for my ankles. This is the same as last time, too. What’s different is when Dwight brings out a long pair of handcuffs. He cuffs one of my ankles and then cuffs the other to a steel table I didn’t notice. The table has been bolted to the floor; Dwight is prepared for any escape I might try to make.

  How will anyone find me? Will they think to look in Florida? Despair clutches my heart. Dwight wasn’t prepared last time; it was easier to find a way to escape, but it is clear that he has planned for this. What hope do I have now? He’s outsmarted the police for a year.

  My heart breaks; tears glide down my cheeks.

  The truth thins my blood.

  This is where I’ll die.

  “Angel,” Dwight tsks as he squats in front of me, wiping my tears away. “What’s the matter? Don’t you realize I plan to take good care of you? We will be just fine here, I promise. No one can bother us. We met here. We will live here and live happily.”

  I nod because I know if I don’t, he’ll get angry and my fight isn’t strong enough for that right now.

  Dwight smiles. “Good. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep for a bit before dinner. You rest too.” He stands and leaves for the bedroom.

  I sag into the couch. At least I’ll have some time alone for a bit. Unfortunately, that can be bad too. My mind travels to Collin. How is he handling all of this? He didn’t sound too good on the phone. Is he upset with me for not being able to explain everything before I left for Deanna’s? At least he knows what’s going on. At least he knows I’m missing. It sounded like he did. How much he knows about why depends on if he’s found any of the police reports in the closet.

  God, I hope so. That’ll
help things. Although, I’m not sure how much, considering I’m not in North Carolina, nor my hometown in Florida. Damn it, no one will ever find me. The chances that I’ll see Collin again are pretty slim. I’ve been at this with Dwight long enough to know that me escaping will be next to impossible.

  Praying isn’t something I normally do. However, I find myself closing my eyes and asking the Lord to get me back to North Carolina in one piece and alive.

  The second longest week of my life passes with Dwight feeding me, watching TV with me, and increasing the amount of physical contact he has with me. It’s been a week and I’m still here. A week of Dwight making me watch Collin play hockey, seemingly unfazed. A week of hearing reporters discuss a photo of him at a therapist’s office. It was taken the day after I left.

  Collin hasn’t commented on it yet, but the team released a statement that they are aware of all the health issues with all of their players. A simple way to say that whatever Collin is going to therapy for is known to the team.

  The longer I’m here, the more faith I lose in hoping I’ll be found.

  The longer I’m here, the more Dwight talks about making love.

  And the more he talks about that, the more I think about death.

  His or mine. Whichever could come first. Whichever prevents that line from being crossed. Dwight is patient and a sort of tease in this respect, but his patience is waning every day. I constantly look for something I could use to injure him or to aid in an escape, but Dwight is too careful. He learned from his previous mistakes and he’s not making them again.

  “Why?” I croak, unable to take the unknown any longer. Why did he pick me? How?

  Dwight turns his head toward me. “What?”

  “Why did you come after me? How did you pick me?”

  His slow, evil smile makes me regret asking. “Do you want to know how I came to meet you, angel?” He doesn’t give me a chance to speak. He utters an answer that has me horrified. Something that absolutely can’t be true. Something I refuse to believe. It just can not be possible. As soon as he says it, I block it from my mind and try to forget he ever said it.