by Layla Nash
"Sure." I nodded, tried to sound confident, but my hands shook as I reached for a bottle of water to clear the cotton and regret from my mouth.
He pretended not to notice, opening the scrapbook. "And if you need to take a break, tell me. We have plenty of time to get the details right, Ivy."
"I'll be fine. And, please — call me Isobel."
He smiled, kindly for someone whose teeth were a little too pointy. But he opened the scrapbook to the first page, turning the book so I could see the photo of a gawky teenage boy. "He disappeared from football practice in rural Illinois about fifteen years ago. His name was ..."
"Daniel Kinsella," I said, a bare whisper. I remembered him, the shock of dark hair and bright blue eyes, a dirty sense of humor and a propensity for making fart noises any time the doctors bent over or sat down or moved. I took a deep breath. "He was there when they first brought me in. But he died a year later. I don't have his file. They said they buried him on the grounds of the facility. He had the flu, something wrong in his chest, and they couldn't make him better."
"Thank you." Smith made a note on a pad of paper as I stared at the boy's picture — him grinning at the camera as he knelt next to a football helmet, less gangly in bulky football gear. He turned the page. Another boy, younger. "This young man was from Michigan, near the thumb."
"Eric," I said, and dug through the box. I fumbled the papers, almost dropped them, as my fingers trembled. I slid the folder across the table. "He disappeared. They said they took him back to his family, but since he's in your book, I'm guessing they didn't."
My heart ached more each time he turned the page. I remembered more and more with each name and picture. Stories we told each other through the bars, pranks we pulled on the doctors and each other, the names of family we whispered in case someone managed to get out. I cried but kept talking through the tears, even when Smith grew a little choked up himself and recommended we take a break. If I stopped, I'd never start again.
But it helped. After the initial agony of remembering, as I shared their memories with him and passed the files over for his safekeeping, the weight on my shoulders lightened a little more. I was no longer the sole keeper of their names, I wasn't the only one responsible for remembering them. For avenging them. From the way Smith's eyes sparked silver, he was only too glad to take part of that burden from me.
We were only halfway through the book when the door to the conference room opened and Edgar, wild-eyed and hair askew, walked in. He looked like he'd gotten dressed in a hurry and ran the whole way from the mansion. My heart filled to see him, and the rest of the tension faded from me. I dredged up a smile for him. "Hi."
"Hi," he said, and his voice went all rusty and broken. He cleared his throat and scowled as he shook Smith's hand, pretending not to see as the investigator dabbed at his eyes "Smith. Good to see you."
"Chase," Smith said, gruff.
Edgar eased into the chair next to me, and when he saw the stack of files, he deflated. "So many."
"Yes," Smith said. He nodded at the book. "Isobel and I have worked through about half of them. Do we have time to go through the rest?"
"We have time for whatever she wants," Edgar said, and caught my hand. Squeezed it so tight I thought my bones might bend, but I squeezed back.
It wasn't easier with Edgar there, the memories still painful, but I didn't get quite as bogged down in the bad memories. I wanted to remember the happy times, such as they were, and tried to find a funny story about each name. Even the ones that ended with a question mark.
Some of the faces in the book I didn't recognize, though that didn't mean they hadn't been in the facility before me, and some of the files I had in the box didn't match up to anyone he'd heard from. Smith took careful notes, and Edgar held my hand, and I did my best to keep my shit together until we finished. By the time we'd emptied my box, the sky outside was dark and the moon rose in the distance.
Smith leaned back in the chair and stretched. "Thank you, Isobel. You've done more to solve these missing persons cases than anyone I've ever worked with. I'm sorry you were in that position, but please take comfort knowing you've helped a lot of families find closure."
It helped a little. Not as much as I'd hoped. I leaned toward Edgar unconsciously, wanting to be warm and safe and held. He reached for me, as if he'd been waiting all day, and dragged me into his lap so he could wrap his arms around me. I didn't even mind that Smith witnessed as Edgar pressed his face against my back and took deep, shaky breaths. I cleared my throat and wiped my eyes once more on the hem of my t-shirt. "If any of the families want to talk about the kids, the ones I knew... If it would help, I could talk to them. If they want to know what happened."
"Thank you," Smith said. He nodded and patted the scrapbook, now fat with additional notes and papers stuffed between the pages. "I will make that offer when we start to notify the families. I don't know if many will take you up on that, but I appreciate you being willing to see them."
I gnawed my lip until I tasted blood, and gripped Edgar's wrist until my hand shook. "If you find Jake's family... The Rushes. You should tell them why he was taken. That he was my mate. And — and tell them we had a baby. Sort of. There's a baby that is both Jake's and mine. If they want to meet us."
Smith cleared his throat, his own words a little hoarse. "Of course. I'm sure they will want to meet you, Isobel. And certainly they will want to meet the baby as well."
"Her name is Ella Rose. If they ask." I hiccuped, took a shaky breath, and Edgar's arms tightened around me. "After my mother."
The investigator got up and came around the table to give me a half-hug, despite Edgar refusing to release me, and squeezed my shoulder. "Your parents would be very proud of you, Isobel."
He carried the files into his office, except for one, and closed the door to the conference room. Edgar and I sat there in silence for a long time, and I turned so I would link my arms around his neck and hide my face from the world. The steady beating of his heart kept me anchored, gave me something to focus on when I wanted to drown in the sorrow.
He kissed my forehead and tried to cuddle me closer in the awkward office chair. "I wasn't sure you'd come back."
"I just needed a little time to think about everything." I felt tired all the way to my bones, and imagined curling up next to him in that giant bed so we could sleep for a week.
"And what did you decide?"
"My life is better with you in it," I said. "I want to go home."
"I love you," he said, standing and taking me with him. Almost carrying me. Taking the burdens for me as he picked up Sophia's file and tucked it into his jacket.
His arm around my waist kept me upright and moving as we wandered down the hall and to the elevators. When we were inside, I caught his face and went up on my toes to kiss him. I murmured, "I love you, too," against his lips, and then I drowned in his kiss and all the possibilities of our future together.
Epilogue
I'd been back about a week when we had Thanksgiving dinner at Natalia's restaurant. The kitchen still wasn't suitable for cooking, and she didn't want to cater in. I helped her a bit in the kitchen as Edgar and Kaiser and Atticus fawned over Ella in the dining room, the big men making faces and shaking things to get her attention. She was a good baby, happy and largely content. She slept through the night and only occasionally cried when no one paid attention to her.
Natalia sat on a high stool in the kitchen and waved a spatula like a baton, directing most of her family in what to do when. Carter hauled two enormous turkeys out of the oven, Ruby monitored a vat of gravy, and Sophia mixed up cornbread stuffing. Eloise pretended to stir cranberries but paid more attention to the heavy cream I whipped to top off the pies. It was controlled chaos, but it felt like family. Especially when someone forgot about the potatoes and there was a rush to get them boiling in time to mash.
It was a small miracle when food ended up on the table and not eaten halfway from the kitchen, and as the long table groaned und
er the weight of the turkeys and a couple of hams, side dishes, rolls, wine bottles, and all the other accoutrements of a Thanksgiving dinner, Edgar pulled me close for a kiss. I flushed but leaned into him, not even caring when Eloise said, "Get a room!" and tried to steal the pie.
Before I could respond, the baby started fussing and Kaiser carried her over. She looked doll-small in his hands, and I sighed as I took her. Edgar pulled out my chair and dragged the highchair around so I could put her down, but every time I tried, Ella started to wobble and fat tears spilled down her cheeks. I laughed and bounced her on my lap instead, shaking my head. She was definitely mine. It still took some getting used to, and every now and then I would look at her and feel completely overwhelmed. At least a hundred times a day, I had no idea what I was doing. Luckily Natalia was never far away and could usually come up with a reasonable answer for whatever ridiculous question I had, but if not, I called Edgar and he dropped everything. He loved her as much as I did.
I had to clear my throat a few times when he gave me a quizzical look, but I only smiled. "Happy Thanksgiving."
"Happy Thanksgiving," he said, and brushed his lips to mine. He poured wine for me and helped pile all the good stuff on my plate. He even moved it back from the edge of the table as Ella reached for something tasty.
Natalia, seated next to Logan at the head of the table, stood and surveyed the assembled crowd. Ten and a half Chases, Kaiser and his four guys, plus Ruby's brother Rafe and a couple of their pack. A full house for sure. Nat cleared her throat and raised her hands to get everyone's attention. "Before we eat, I thought it would be nice for everyone to share what they're thankful for. I am incredibly thankful for my wonderful husband, Logan, and for the new family we've built. I'm grateful for all of you being part of our lives."
Whistles and clapping greeted that, and Nat kissed Logan as she sat. He raised his wine glass. "I'm thankful, obviously, for the beautiful woman next to me and the friends and family at this table."
They went around the table, Eloise saying under her breath, "I'm grateful for the Constitution, which says you're innocent until proven guilty," and Atticus grateful for each sunrise and his snow leopard. Some were funnier than others, with a great deal of laughter as Kaiser's bears grumbled and mumbled their way through a few sheepish declarations of thankfulness. I smiled along with them, distracted by Ella as Sophia, on my right, whispered she was thankful for being able to remember the past, live in the present, and dream of the future. Even if she couldn't actually remember the past. She squeezed my hand and tried a smile.
And then it was my turn. I stared around the table, heart in my throat, and tried to meet everyone's gaze. Nat looked a little teary already, resting her head on Logan's shoulder, and Edgar held my hand under the table. I jostled Ella in my lap as she banged her hands on the table. "I don't know where to start, to be honest."
I took a deep breath. "I know your family has grown a lot in the last few months, and I'm grateful to be included. I didn't think I would have the second chance for a family."
Edgar's arm looped around my shoulders and pulled me close to his side. I smiled and rested my head on his arm, careful of Ella as she reached for my fork. "So I'm thankful for each of you, and mostly for Edgar. I'm not sure I'd have the courage to still be here, to be doing all of this," and I lifted Ella a little to make my point, which garnered a few laughs around the table. "If not for him."
He smiled as he kissed me, palm warm against my cheek, and I closed my eyes. He barely broke the kiss to say, "And I'm thankful that you stayed," before kissing me again. I laughed against his mouth but didn't mind a bit.
I hardly heard what everyone else said, so lost in Edgar's kiss and the feel of his hand on my neck, but it seemed like only a blink and then everyone applauded, raised their glasses in toast, and started eating. I juggled Ella in one hand and my fork in the other, laughing as Edgar actually cut the turkey for me, and tried to take Sophia's advice. Remember the past, live in the present, dream for the future. Everything would be okay.
Connect with the Author
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed Storm Chaser. If you'd like to be notified when Chasing the Dream, Edgar’s story, is released, please join my mailing list by clicking below.
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Thanks!
Layla
Also by Layla Nash
Thrill of the Chase
Chasing Trouble
Storm Chaser
Cut to the Chase
Chasing the Dream (coming November 2015!)
His Bear Hands (with Callista Ball)