“Spread your legs for me, Eden.”
I did as he said. “What else do you want?”
“I want you to do whatever you want. I just want to watch.”
“Will you pretend your hand is my pussy?”
“Already there.”
As we stopped talking and enjoyed the act of pleasuring ourselves together, I thought about how different this was. I felt much more vulnerable than I did when working because, plain and simple, every part of this was real, not mechanical.
He quickly lost control. There was nothing sexier than the sound of his breath quickening, watching his body shake as he climaxed. I loved watching him come and let myself go at the exact moment he did.
Ryder collapsed against his headboard. “You win.”
My chest was rising and falling. “What do I win?”
“You’ve finally turned me into a perverted cam john whose main objective is my next orgasm—because I’m totally ready to fucking do that again.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
It was the first genuine orgasm I’d ever had on camera, because it didn’t feel like I was on camera. It was a real sexual experience.
CHAPTER EIGHT
*
RYDER
It was bound to happen, I guess.
Living in the same town, there was no way I was going to get away with not running into Mallory and her new man at some point. It finally happened when I’d least expected it.
I was in the middle of The Grove, casually strolling with a gelato in hand. It had been a pretty relaxing day. My father was out of the office, and I’d left early to buy a few things after work. The sun was setting. It was one of the rare times I was just chilling by myself.
Figures.
My heart dropped. There she was, hand-in-hand with him as they gazed into the storefront window at Barney’s.
My first inclination was to run in the opposite direction, but a part of me knew taking advantage of the opportunity fate had put right in front of me was the better option. This wasn’t going to be any easier three months down the line. I needed to get it over with so the unknown wouldn’t matter anymore. This was the last step to moving on, as far as I was concerned.
Mallory looked good. She had her long, black hair tied up in a ponytail and was wearing white capris and a fitted tank top. My eyes trailed down to the guy’s hand on her ass. It made me uncomfortable but didn’t upset me the way I thought it might.
I’d seen a photo of this guy, Aaron, before because my friend Benny, the ever-helpful bearer of good news, had screenshot it off of Facebook. I was secretly pleased to see that while he was a good-looking dude, he was much shorter than me in person.
I forced myself to walk right up to them and said, “Hey.” It came out almost too enthusiastically.
Mallory flinched, realizing it was me standing before her. “Hi.” She swallowed, looking extremely uncomfortable.
I immediately turned to the guy. “You must be Aaron.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I held my hand out. “I’m—”
“I know who you are,” he said as he took my hand.
Of course. In Mallory’s world, I was infamous—in the book of her life, probably the biggest antagonist. I was sure she’d filled him in on all of the details of our demise, a great example of all of the things not to do. Still, I’d loved her. I wanted her to have closure, and this was me giving it to her.
I sucked up my pride. “Hey, I hear congratulations are in order.”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah. We…we got engaged.” Rather than stick her hand out like most women might to display an engagement ring, she moved her hand behind her as if to hide it from me.
Interesting. Not sure if it meant anything, but I noticed.
It was weird. I’d always imagined this moment as worse than it actually was. As uncomfortable as it may have been to chat with Mallory and her fiancé, I did want her to be happy. My issues with how our relationship ended had more to do with my own guilt than anything.
“I want you to know I wish you the best. I’m really glad I ran into you today because I probably wouldn’t have made a point to tell you that otherwise.”
A part of me still loved her. I always would.
Her eyes seared into mine. “Thank you, Ryder. That does mean a lot to me.”
I pursed my lips and nodded a few times before I said, “Well, I’ll let you guys go.”
Mallory’s stare lingered on me, her eyes masking so many unsaid words. I knew if Aaron weren’t standing right there, she might have unleashed some of them.
I wondered if this was how things would always be with us—just a blur of weird emotions and tension—or if someday we would be able to walk by each other and wave. Maybe someday the past would be in the past, but the look on her face gave me the impression that right now the past was still very much in the present.
I held my hand up. “Bye.”
“Bye,” she said. Aaron simply nodded.
As I walked away, I felt a sense of peace. Facing her had been the last step in ridding myself of the negative energy I’d been carrying around. Things may not have wrapped up neatly in a bow with us, but at least I faced her.
I knew, though, that a good portion of my peace really came from Eden, as fucked-up as that was. She’d come along at a time when I really needed a distraction. And what she’d given me was more than that. I’d thought I was dead inside until she helped awaken things again. She might not have wanted to fully reveal herself to me, but I was certain she cared. And that feeling of being truly cared for was something only a few people in my life had given me.
As the days went on, though, I’d begun to wonder more and more about who Eden really was, and what she was hiding from me. I didn’t think I could last much longer like this.
The situation was slowly breaking me.
***
That night, I was more determined than ever to convince Eden to take our relationship to the next level. The conversation I planned to have with her kept playing in my head. I’d give her all the time she needed, as long she would agree that someday we could see each other. Maybe I needed to flat out give her an ultimatum, tell her I couldn’t be celibate forever, that I needed release with an actual woman in the flesh. That wasn’t exactly a lie. I had a little patience left in that area, but what if I made her believe I didn’t? If she felt threatened, would she be more likely to agree to meet me?
When it was almost time for our private midnight chat, I still wasn’t sure how I was going to approach things. I was revved up, so I would wing it.
Connecting into Skype, I noticed Eden was offline.
Hmm.
That was strange. She normally logged on a little early, before her show had even ended.
As much as I tried to stay off the cam-girl site, I went over there now to see if she was still in the middle of a show. When I called up her page, it indicated that Montana Lane was offline. She was supposed to have been working.
A feeling of dread developed in the pit of my stomach. It was unlike her to be offline and not say anything to me.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. With each second that passed, I became more freaked out. This didn’t feel right.
I dialed her over and over on Skype with no answer.
After that, I sent a message to her email account.
An hour went by with no response.
I then became certain something was wrong.
It was one thing if she had dumped me. That, I could probably get over—eventually. What I couldn’t get over was the thought that something had happened to her. That idea was literally making me sick.
The wheels in my head were turning. What if one of those sick fucks found her and hurt her? What if a car hit her and she was dead? I would have no way of knowing.
When two hours had passed and there was still no response, my fear turned to full-fledged panic.
There was no way I was going to sleep tonigh
t.
Think. Think. Think.
Suddenly, it came to me: the restaurant on her T-shirt.
When I was in India, she’d revealed something from her “real life.” I never called her out on it, but I sure as hell had made a note of the name.
Ellerby’s Grille Since 1985.
I knew she worked at a restaurant during the day—that was one of the few bits of information she’d given me—so logic told me there was a good chance Ellerby’s was it.
With my heart pounding, I opened my laptop and typed the name into Google.
There was only one result with that exact name. A website for the restaurant popped up. I clicked on the About Us tab and took note of the address.
St. George, Utah.
The realization stopped me in my tracks. It felt like I was violating her trust.
Utah. That wasn’t far. Maybe a six-hour drive?
You’re in Utah?
I didn’t know for sure. But it felt possible.
I scoured the website for any sign of her. It was a typical American bar and grill that served pub food and drinks. There were photos of platters—featuring close-ups of hamburgers, fries, and chicken fingers—and glasses of draft beer. My heart nearly skipped a beat when I came across photos of the staff in action. Some of them were wearing the same blue T-shirt I’d seen on Eden. Upon closer examination, none of them were her, though.
I’d gone through every page and found no sign of her. The only valuable information I had to go on was the location.
The question was…what was I going to do with it?
***
I managed to get about an hour of sleep. The first thing I did upon waking was check my email. There was still no response from her. I went to her camming page. Relief washed over me to see the preview photo was still there, even though it indicated she was offline. At least she hadn’t deleted her account, hadn’t disappeared off the face of the Earth altogether.
My ego taunted me, asking me why I couldn’t figure out that I’d been dumped and move on. Can’t you take a hint? But then I’d see her eyes in my head, the ones always filled with emotion when she looked at me. She’d led me to believe she cared for me. My gut told me Eden would never leave me high and dry, that she cared enough not to do something like that. And that’s what made me worry. Because the only explanation in that case was that she was in some kind of trouble.
I didn’t feel like I could breathe until I knew she was okay.
What if I went to Utah and that restaurant wasn’t even her place of employment? Then what? Maybe she’d just visited there once. Jesus, what if her name wasn’t really Eden? I had nothing to go on but a damn first name that might or might not have been real.
I paced in my bedroom, practically ripping the hair out of my head. A scream of frustration escaped me. It was a sound I didn’t recognize.
A few seconds later, I heard footsteps.
“Mijo, is everything okay?”
Apparently, Lorena had heard my roar. She always arrived at the ass crack of dawn and had come storming up the stairs with a broom in her hand.
“Come in,” I said.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, opening the door.
Lorena was going to think I was fucking nuts. But that had never stopped me from unloading on her before. She was a straight shooter. In many ways, I needed her frank advice more than ever in this moment, because I was seriously considering jumping on a plane right now.
“I need to ask you something. And I need you to take it seriously, even though it involves something you have very strong preconceived notions about.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you take drugs?”
I shook my head. “No. It has to do with the webcam girl I told you about before.”
“The nudie model?”
I hated that she called her that. “Yes.”
“Did you get her pregnant?”
“Uh…that’s physically impossible. We’ve never met in person.”
“That’s true. What happened?”
“She’s missing.”
“Missing? How can she be missing if she’s never here?”
“She still exists.”
“Yeah. But you know what I mean. She’s not with you. So how do you know she’s missing?”
“She didn’t show up last night for our chat, and I feel like something’s wrong. That’s the first time something like that has ever happened.”
“Maybe she just needed a break from showing her tetas for one night.”
I rolled my eyes. “Our relationship has evolved to much more than showing her tetas. It was never about that with us. I told you that. I can’t even begin to explain it to you, Lorena. I know how nuts this all seems, but…a lot has happened in a short amount of time with her. I feel like I know her.” My voice cracked. “Something isn’t right.”
She finally seemed to be getting that I was dead fucking serious because the expression on her face changed. There was no longer a hint of amusement. “Okay…” She leaned her broom against the wall and took a seat on my bed.
I let out a deep breath, relieved that she was taking me seriously. “We’ve chatted almost every night for weeks. She’s cried in front of me. We’ve gotten to know each other very well, even if we’ve kept certain information private. We’ve gotten close—shared a lot of intimate things. And it’s not like her to do something like this, to just not contact me. I’m worried sick that something bad happened to her.”
“You don’t know where she lives?”
I sighed. “No, I don’t. But here’s the thing, I accidentally figured out the place she might work. She told me she waitresses during the day. The name of this restaurant was on one of her Tshirts once. It’s all I have to go on. I could go there and try to find her. But she might get freaked out, and then I could—”
She finished my sentence. “Lose her? You don’t even have her.”
That realization was eye opening. “That’s true.”
Lorena crossed her arms. “So, what are you asking me? If I think you should go?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m asking.”
“Are you gonna be able to sleep at night if you don’t?”
I thought about it for a split second. “No.”
“Then you don’t need me to tell you what to do.”
Shit.
A part of me had been hoping she would knock some sense into me.
Am I really doing this?
“I’m about to get on a plane to Utah, and I don’t even know if she’s there.”
She scratched her chin. “Utah. Hmm…”
My brow furrowed. “Yeah. Utah. Why? What are you thinking?”
“Maybe she’s a polygamist.”
“What?”
“Have you ever watched Big Love? Sister Wives? There are a lot of polygamists in Utah. Maybe that’s why she won’t tell you who she is. Maybe she’s married with sister wives. And doing this in secret.”
That sounded ludicrous to me. “Oh, okay. I didn’t realize everyone who lived in Utah was automatically a polygamist.” I pulled my hair and shouted, “She’s not a polygamist!”
At least, not that I know of.
Jesus. How would I even know?
She said she wasn’t married.
God, what the fuck do I REALLY know? Nothing!
“Tell me the truth. Am I acting fucking crazy, Lorena?”
“No, mijo. You’re love sick. Maybe obsessed—I don’t know. And even though I don’t approve of this whole situation, I can see how upset you are. It’s the same look you had when that Mallory broke up with you. I haven’t seen it since. You won’t rest until you know. So, go and get your answer so you can move on with your life.”
CHAPTER NINE
*
RYDER
With one connecting flight, St. George, Utah, was less than four hours of travel time from Los Angeles. I flew from L.A. to Vegas, and after a quick layover in Sin City, I landed at my destination. This part of
Utah was also only a few miles from the Arizona border.
The Grand Canyon wasn’t that far from here. If this were a recreational visit, I might have considered venturing out to see it. But this visit was far from recreational. What was it? Investigational? Even as I soaked in the dry heat outside of the airport, I was no more certain that I was making the right decision.
Wasn’t this an invasion of her privacy?
After picking up my rented Audi, I punched the address for Ellerby’s into my GPS and hit the road. It was approximately twenty minutes from the airport. I’d booked a hotel in town that I’d check in to later, depending on how things went.
Surrounded by canyons, I couldn’t help but think a sky view of all the red rocks would be amazing.
I’d read up a little bit about the area while I was on the plane. Apparently, the sun shines here most days. The city was named for the nineteenth-century Latter-day Saints’ church apostle George A. Smith. It wasn’t all Mormons who inhabited the area, though. There was a mix of cultures. St. George connected three geographical regions: the Mojave Desert on the west-southwest side to California, the Colorado Plateau and its four national parks, and The Great Basin to the north. Seemed like a place I’d love to visit again sometime when I wasn’t busy being a stalker.
Thirty minutes later, I finally pulled up to Ellerby’s and found a parking spot across the street. It was four in the afternoon. I had no idea if Eden even worked at this place, let alone what her hours were. She did tell me she worked during the early part of the day, which would make it likely she wasn’t even on shift.
After an hour of sitting across the street, observing people coming and going, I forced myself out of the car and entered the restaurant.
A man stood at the hostess station and grabbed a menu as he saw me approaching.
I forced my words out, trying to seem casual. “Is Eden here?”
“Eden doesn’t work on Mondays. She’s in tomorrow.”
My heart thundered through my chest as I processed his response. Eden was her real name. Eden did work here. Eden wasn’t dead—or at least they hadn’t been notified of it.
“What time does she get here?”
“She does the lunch shift. So, like, eleven in the morning.”
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