Gibson looks from Bradyn to me. “Talia said that she overheard some of their conversation. The mystery man told Emma that he knew her birth mother. Dylan, you know her better than anyone. Would she run off like that without telling someone?”
“No. And she would never stand Talia and Connor up like that.”
“That’s what I thought too.” He shakes his head. “I need to get back to the station. Let me know when you have something.”
I don’t even wait for him to walk away before I’m turning, hands clenched into fists, making my way to my UTV. I will tear him apart for hurting her. Red floods my vision at the mere thought of what I’ll do to him if even a single hair on Emma’s gorgeous head is missing.
For the first time though, I don’t fight the anger. I let it seep into my system, driving me toward the mission they’ll have to kill me to keep me off of. I climb behind the wheel, and Delta hops in the back. Before I can take off, Bradyn jumps into the passenger seat and grips the stability handle.
Since he doesn’t say a word, I don’t hesitate before pulling away from the barn and heading toward my house. I’ll gear up and head out, then let Tucker guide me if he finds anything else. But I know better than most that sometimes you have to start right back at the beginning. Which means I need to see her house.
In silence, I park in front of my house; then Bradyn and I head up the porch steps. He waits while I unlock the door and follows me inside.
“If you’re going to try to talk me out of this, then you should know that there’s not a force in this world that will keep me from finding her.” I grab my tactical backpack, the one I keep stocked with emergency supplies, setting it on the counter to go through it and double-check that everything I need is here.
“I’m not going to talk you out of it.” Bradyn crosses his arms. “But I need to know where your head is at. Yesterday, you lost it because she poked you in the chest. What if this is worse? I won’t lose you again, Dylan.”
After setting down a bottle of water I was preparing to shove into the bag, I turn toward my oldest brother. His expression is all concern, and I love him for it. “Do you remember when Elliot and Nova were getting married? In his vows, he told her that she was the only one who could calm the storm in him.”
“I remember.”
I take a step closer. “Emma is my storm, Bradyn. She is the wind that tears me apart, the rain that hammers against my skin, the lightning that shoots through my blood, making me feel completely alive and torn apart all at the same time. She is the only thing that had me clinging to life when I was in that pit. I can’t trust myself around her, Bradyn, but I know who I’ll be without her. She’s the only thing grounding me, and if anything happens to her—” I trail off. “You might as well put me down too.”
“Then we need to make sure nothing happens to her.” Bradyn clasps a hand on my shoulder. “I made a call, and Elliot and Nova will be back later tonight. I’ve already let Riley know we need to meet, so he’ll join us at the office. Don’t go after her without checking in with us first, okay? We need to treat this like any other mission. Even though it’s not.”
I nod. “I’ll check in with you all after I head to her house.”
“Sounds good.” Bradyn heads for the door. “We’ll find her, Dylan.”
“I know we will.”
He leaves the room, and, alone for the first time since hearing the news, I sink back onto the barstool and close my eyes. In the silence, I sit, letting my mind replay every moment while I waited for her to step out of the diner.
What would have happened if, instead of arguing with her, I’d told her how I felt?
What would have happened if we hadn’t gotten into that fight?
Would she still be gone?
How soon after that moment did he take her?
The weight of knowing I may never see her again settles in, and for a brief moment, it’s not me who suffered in that pit—it’s Emma.
Her blonde hair streaked with blood and dirt.
Her face bruised.
It’s her blood that falls to the ground.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Delta rubs against my legs and whimpers, then paws at me. Without thinking, I sink out of the stool and onto the ground, then wrap my arms around Delta. He leans against me.
“I can’t lose her,” I whisper to my empty home. “I can’t lose her.” And even though I’m not entirely sure He listens to me, I add, “God, please don’t let me lose her.”
Emma’s house looks nearly the same as it did when we were growing up. The same photos are on the wall, the same throw pillows on the couch. There are a few differences now—a new blanket on the back of the couch. New patterns on the dishes displayed behind glass in her mother’s china cabinet.
But it’s almost like stepping back in time. After slipping gloves onto my hands, I move farther into the house, looking for anything that might be out of place. It’s been years since I was in here last, but I know Emma. She likes everything to be in its place. Always.
