The door didn’t swing open immediately, and I wondered whether perhaps I was being too eager. Had Phoebe run from me after all? Was my presence causin’ her to delay? Had I pushed her too far somehow?
“Darlin’, please!”
An instant later, the door opened just a crack. Not much, but enough to let me see the woman beyond.
The woman who wasn’t Phoebe.
I staggered back, unable to cope with the crushin’ disappointment that the sight brought. It seeped over my body and left my limbs useless at my side.
I recognized the woman at once. Of course I did. With her green irises and blonde hair, it was impossible not to—even through the smeared makeup and puffy eyes. I tried not to let my disappointment color my welcome.
“Angel,” I said in greetin’ when I gained control of myself again before tipping my head to give her a nod. “What’re ya doin’ here?”
“I—I—” She cut off as a sob overtook her. She threw open the door and moved back into the apartment with legs that seemed weighted by grief. When she reached the sofa, she curled up on the seat and then tucked her arms around her legs, restin’ her head on her knees. Her eyes were unfocused as fresh tears fell. “I found her key in my pocket. After I landed back home. And then . . . Oh, God.” She started to rock. “I can’t lose her. I can’t. I just can’t.” Each word was driven out on a sobbing breath.
Her body shook as she descended into gut-wrenching sobs. I could relate. She was showin’ all the emotions outwardly that I kept buried inside.
For a moment, I stood back and watched her sorrow, feelin’ helpless.
“You’re not just going to stand back and watch her cry, are you?” Phoebe’s voice was as clear as day in my mind, right down to the irritated tone she would’ve used. One she’d turned on me each time I’d said or done somethin’ she hadn’t liked. The one that had filled her voice when she’d defended her position at Emmanuel Racing.
“Hey, now, Angel,” I said, moving to sit by her side and offering her my arms for comfort. She twisted and grabbed my shirt as she cried against my chest. She sobbed against me, and I wrapped my arms around her back to comfort her. “She’ll be okay.”
The words lacked conviction, but I tried to make them believable anyway.
“You don’t know that,” she said, somethin’ new overtaking the sorrow in her tone. She shoved my chest, pushin’ me away. “Why didn’t you look after her? She went back to you when you needed her. Where were you when she needed you?”
My stomach twisted and my chest burned. She was right. Of course she was right. Hadn’t I thought that exact thing just hours earlier? I’d failed Phoebe, and I’d failed myself.
“Angel, you can’t say that. You don’t know what happened.” Mr. Reede’s voice startled me, and I turned to find him standing by the open door with a bememoth of an older man behind him. The pair of them were watching our interaction. “Blaming Beau isn’t going to fix anything. I’m sure he feels guilty enough as it is without you adding anything more to it. We all do.”
Angel rushed over to him and threw her arms around him before sobbing against his chest.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked with a soft, gentle tone. One I’m sure he’d used with his daughter over the years.
“I had to come back, Mr. R.,” she sobbed against him. “I needed to be close to her, in whatever way I could. I should’ve stayed longer and watched out for her. Maybe things would be different if I had.”
He brushed his hand over her hair in a soothin’ way. “Phoebe had her own life here. You can’t blame yourself either.”
I was certain the words were not just for Angel, but for the three of us. The guilt in the room was almost stiflin’ and it radiated from us all.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Smyth. It seems we do have a key after all.” Phoebe’s daddy’s voice was shaky, tired, as he dismissed the building super.
A moment later, Mr. Smyth left after offering his best wishes for finding Phoebe soon. The whole time he spoke, Angel was pressed against Mr. Reede’s chest and he held her as if wishing it was his daughter in his arms and not her friend.
When he pulled away, he lifted his finger under her chin to draw her gaze to his. “Why’d you come back here, Angel?”
“I was at home with Mum and I found the key. My last day was such a rush, with Phoebe needing—” Her head tilted as she cast a glance in my direction. “Needing to get back to Georgia for Beau. She was in such a panic after hearing about Abby. Neither of us thought about the key.”
If I wasn’t sittin’ already, Angel’s words woulda sent me to my knees. Phoebe had been panicked when she’d heard. Her panic was about me. The night that she’d turned up at the Lake Retreat musta been the same day she’d dropped Angel at the airport. She’d only left that mornin’, she musta turned around and driven straight back from Charlotte to support me. I buried my head in my hands. How could I have ever doubted her?
“After I’d finished the job I had to go home for, I rang Mrs. Reede to find out whether you guys had any plans to come see Phoebe soon, figuring it’d be easier to get her spare key back that way rather than posting it, but she broke down on the phone. She told me what happened and that you were already on your way here. I-I had to come. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, I’ll do it. I want to help.” She descended into sobs again.
I didn’t need to look at the pair to know Phoebe’s daddy’s arms would have been back in place around Angel’s waist as he gave her the platitudes and reassurances I was sure he needed to hear himself.
“D’ya mind if I have a look around?” I asked as I pushed myself up off the sofa.
“Of course I mind, cowboy. If I wanted to show you around, I’d have shown you around.” It was Phoebe’s voice answerin’. Amusement colored her tone. I wasn’t foolish enough to think it was anythin’ more than my own mind desperate to have her back, to help me get through our separation. This time wasn’t like the last, where I’d thought the worst of her. Now I knew the truth. I knew she loved me, but it didn’t help none.
“Just don’t touch or move anything,” Mr. Reede responded before turnin’ to Angel to quiz her on a few things she’d seen about Phoebe’s life in the States—like the placement of her medication and medical prescriptions in the apartment.
Taking care not to touch anythin’, I moved through the open livin’, dinin’, and kitchen area. With each step, I remembered the other times I’d been in her apartment and tried to consider whether anythin’ was moved, missin’, or out of place. It wasn’t a space I’d been in frequently enough to be sure of anythin’ though. The photo of Xavier and Phoebe pinned to the fridge was new. It was a stab in the heart. Proof that she felt somethin’ for him, even if it wasn’t quite what she felt for me. That maybe she felt somethin’ still.
Was that why she hadn’t told him that we were together? Had I forced her hand to give me an answer before she was ready?
Even as I had the thought, I doubted it. Phoebe wasn’t the sort of girl to do anythin’ sooner than she wanted, or who would bow to pressure unless she decided to.
I wandered past the door to her bedroom, not wanting to go into what was her inner sanctum. At least, not until I saw an overturned photo frame on the bedside table. It seemed unusual that somethin’ she cared enough about to have at her side as she slept would be flipped downward without reason. Without thinkin’ through the consequences, I charged over to her bedside table and set it standin’ again.
As soon as I did, my knees gave way and I sank to the floor. In the frame was the photo of her family she’d shown me durin’ our first Skype call. That alone coulda been devastatin’ enough, but so much worse was that secured over it, tucked into the top and bottom of the frame, was her copy of the strip of photos from the Fun Spot. It didn’t look like it was recently replaced or moved. That meant one thing . . . she’d slept with them beside her bed. Possibly the whole time she’d been in the States.
&nb
sp; More than that, she’d effectively put me in the same frame as her family. That meant somethin’, didn’t it? It was proof of the way she’d felt, more than almost anythin’ else I’d seen or heard. Just like the fact that I had my copy of the same photos in my bedroom at home in Georgia was a sign of my affection.
Was that why it was overturned though? Had it been too much for her to see? Had she tipped it over? Had she been so sick of lookin’ at us together—happy?
The emotions that had stayed close to the surface, hidden but never able to be buried, used my distraction to break through. My throat clammed up and my gaze grew thick with moisture. I sat on the floor with my back against her bed, hidden from the sight of the two in the livin’ room, and cradled the frame in my lap as my tears started to fall.
“That never left her bedside at home.” The sound of her daddy’s voice made me leap to my feet and brush the tears from my eyes. I was supposed to be bein’ strong for Phoebe, bein’ the one who’d help him bring her home, not the one cryin’ on her bedroom floor at the first memory. What was next? Huggin’ her pillow and hopin’ it still smelled of her?
Don’t be so dang pathetic! It ain’t helpin’ no one.
I tossed the frame onto the bed and hurried out of the room, unable to speak or be in the presence of all of her things a moment longer.
“Beau, I—”
I stalked past Angel, ignoring her as she tried to speak to me. I didn’t stop until I was out of Phoebe’s apartment and halfway to the elevator. Then I fell forward against the wall, droppin’ my head between my outstretched arms, and retched as my stomach twisted in on itself.
It wasn’t fair. Why her? Why did she have to be the one who disappeared?
I needed her safe.
I needed her in my arms.
I just . . . needed her.
A growl escaped me as I pushed off the wall and paced across the corridor.
I needed to get away. To find peace. There was only one place I could even hope to find any peace though, and headin’ out on the lake back home would only serve to remind me of Phoebe and the last time we were out there together. That, and the fact that she wasn’t with me.
Swingin’ around to pace across the corridor again, I tried to find a modicum of peace somewhere within, but there was nothin’. There wouldn’t be nothin’ till I found her.
Tracin’ both my hands through my hair, I tried to hear Phoebe’s voice ag’in. I needed her reassurances and sass. Only, the memory of her had fallen silent when I needed her most. Knowin’ that nothin' was gonna come of me havin’ a breakdown, I took a breath and headed back for Phoebe’s place.
“Wherever she is, it’s possible she’s got her medications with her. Angel said that Phoebe had left a stash here and they’re gone now,” Mr. Reede said after I’d walked back through the door. The relief in his voice was palpable. It sent a wave of the same sensation coursin’ through me. Did that mean she wasn’t in immediate danger? He appeared to think so at least, and I was willin’ to cling to that hope—however insignificant it might be.
He moved closer to me, away from the bedroom door. Beyond that barrier, I could hear Angel sobbin’ once again.
“I need to go talk to the police again. Would you mind keeping an eye on Angel while I do?”
I wasn’t sure if the question was because he thought she was at risk of disappearing too, because he needed to know she was protected, or just because she needed someone with her. Not that it mattered, it was what Phoebe woulda wanted, so it was what I had to do.
“Course.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I nodded to let him know I’d heard and then moved away from him to sit on the sofa. All of my energy had left me, and I was empty. I’d burned through my reserves during my emotional roller-coaster day with my hope, anger, and sorrow all risin’ and fallin’ in turn.
A little over twenty minutes after Mr. Reede had left, the sobbin’ in Phoebe’s room stopped. Shortly after, the door cracked open and Angel padded out of the room. Her eyes were still red and puffy, her hair a mess, and her arms were wrapped tightly around Phoebe’s pillow.
“I’m sorry for what I said before,” she said as she sat beside me, curling her legs underneath her as she did.
I waved her off. “It ain’t nothin’ I ain’t been thinkin’ myself.”
“I was out of line. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She squeezed the pillow harder. “I’m not. I was the one who convinced Mr. and Mrs. Reede to send her over here to live. If it weren’t for me, she’d still be safe at home.”
“Blamin’ yourself ain’t gonna help no one.”
“Maybe not, but it’s true.”
I turned around to face her. “It ain’t true.”
“It—”
Holding up my finger, I silenced her. “And even if it is, and you’re the reason Phoebe is here, then that ain’t a bad thing.”
“How can you say that?” Angel’s mouth twisted as she asked the question. “It’s not like things have been great for her since she got here. She’s hated it. Every damn day of it.”
Her words were a punch in the gut, just like it had been when I’d heard Phoebe accuse me of enjoyin’ torturin’ her. Knowin’ what I did now, I could understand why it woulda been a hard experience for her, but my stomach still twisted around the knowledge that I’d caused her any pain. That at the time I’d even done it deliberately. I’d done so many things outta spite and a need for revenge, and she’d been innocent all along.
“I hoped things were gettin’ better,” I admitted as I raked my hands through my hair. “For both of us.”
Had Phoebe and Angel spoken after our night together?
“Well, you laying off her would help some. Of course, even that wouldn’t stop her being unhappy. Mostly because she insists on bringing herself at least as much grief as you ever caused.”
“What’re ya talkin’ about?”
“Oh, come on!” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Surely you’re not going to deny that you were deliberately trying to torture her by showing your pregnant fiancée off as often as possible.”
It hadn’t crossed my mind to deny that, because it was every bit of the truth. “That ain’t what I mean. What makes ya say she’s torturin’ herself?”
Angel’s gaze widened, and then she ducked her head. “It’s not my place to say.”
“That ain’t fair. Ya can’t say what ya did and not elaborate.”
“It’s just . . .” She trailed off and sighed before cutting her gaze back to me. “She’ll kill me for saying this, but she insists on being with the wrong guy.”
A small smile crept across my lips as I realized what she was talkin’ about, and what she wanted. Or at least, who I suspected she wanted Phoebe to be with.
“No,” I admitted, sure Angel would understand—just like Phoebe’s daddy had. “She ain’t insistin’ on that no more. Least, I don’t think she is.”
Her head lifted and for a second, a ripple of excitement rolled through her. “What?”
My heart quivered in my chest as I recalled Phoebe’s arrival on my doorstep the night before she headed back for the feature interview with the Racing Hub. Her skin had been so pale, her body like ice, and yet I’d felt warmer deep inside my heart than I had at any other time since the moment I’d seen her take off on her bike durin’ her first vacation.
My lips lifted further as I recalled the night we’d shared. “She—uh—we . . .”
I trailed off. Even though I’d started to tell Angel what we’d shared, I couldn’t give up Phoebe’s secrets. Not even to her best friend.
“No way!” Angel’s voice rose as she said the words. She practically bounced across the distance between us. “You two got together?”
A frown twisted my mouth. “It wasn’t nothin’ as casual as that. At least, it wasn’t for me.”
“Tell me all about it. Spare no det
ails.”
“I ain’t tellin’ ya about us.”
Her smile grew teasing. “Phoebe would.” Her smile dropped again. “If she were here.”
“Alls I’ll say is that I want Phoebe back, and then I wanna spend every day of the rest of our lives lovin’ her and makin’ up for the way things were for her here. I ain’t gonna let any silly mistakes keep us apart no more.”
Tears welled in Angel’s eyes again. “So you do love her?”
“More’n anythin’.” I couldn’t help my smile as I admitted it.
“I knew it. She wouldn’t believe me, but I knew it. She loves you too, you know? More than she’d probably ever admit to.”
“I know.” As easy as it was to doubt it after everythin’ we’d been though, and with her last phone call echoin’ in my ears, I did know. I just wished it had been enough to keep her safe.
“What about your fiancée, and your baby?”
My brow dipped as I wondered whether Angel would think less of me for the mistakes I’d made. Would she still be hopin’ for Phoebe and me to be together once she knew?
“Cass and I used to be involved before I ever met Phoebe. I, uh, I actually broke things off with Cass the night I met Phoebe.” I was certain the smile on my face was goofy, but I couldn’t help it whenever I thought of that first night. It wasn’t quite love at first sight, but she’d fascinated me like no one else and instantly had me wound tighter than the lug nuts on my truck. “After that . . . well, Cass had her own way of dealin’ with the breakup and found herself pregnant. After I spoke to Max and then, well—”
“Thought Max was her boyfriend.” She raised a brow at me, as if it was the most ridiculous notion in the world. “Remind me to show you a photo of her apparent ‘boyfriend’ one day, and you’ll see how stupid that assumption was.”
I frowned, but didn’t argue. The stupid part was not pushin’ Phoebe for more information. For thinkin’ the worst of her purely because of the uncertainty caused by the distance between us and our different time zones. “After we’d split up, it seemed to me the most important thing was to take care of Cass’s baby. That’s the only reason we were engaged.”
Beastly (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #3) Page 8