Oh, God.
She tried to speak, failed, and finally got out the words. “Need to see it.”
“Gen—”
“Need to see it. Now.”
His fingers tightened around her flesh in punishment. The slight pain cut through the panic and centered her, until she was brave enough to unfold and stand at full posture.
“Stay here.”
She waited on the darkened sidewalk. The moon shimmered amid the mountain peaks, the blue-black sky a gorgeous streak of art. A couple walked past her, laughing softly, and went inside. Gen wrapped her arms around her chest until he came back out with the paper. He didn’t speak, and the worried light in his eyes told her it was bad.
She unfolded it and read the headline:
“Surgeon Scalped at Altar.”
Her engagement photo mocked her. Glowing in a white linen suit, hair curled and twisted up in a sophisticated knot, she clasped hands with David, who gazed adoringly into her face.
The picture next to it showed the packed church, endless roses bursting from spaces, glittering candelabras, and her father patting David on the shoulder, who grinned broadly in excitement.
The final photo sealed her fate.
David’s broken face reflected back on the page as he exited the church to a blinding array of flashing bulbs, surrounded by reporters thrusting microphones in his face. His eyes looked dazed, as if she’d ripped his heart out and stomped on it.
The world spun. Gen forced herself to skim the article. Phrases leaped out at her in mocking glee.
Renowned surgeon left at altar by his own resident.
Brokenhearted and abandoned, family rallies, refusing to speak to reporters.
Bride climbed through the window and escaped via a guest and her supposed friend. Another lover?
Her body shut down. Hope for the future shriveled like ashes, leaving dark stains and a bitter taste that choked. She’d done the unthinkable, and now it was time to pay.
Gen lifted her gaze. Her voice sounded wooden to her own ears. “Take me home.”
He clenched his jaw. “Are you sure? We can still stick to the plan. Get in the car and go.”
“Not anymore. It’s over, Wolfe. Take me home.”
He muttered a vicious curse. Then finally nodded.
She climbed into the car and they sped into the night, her fingers still clutching the paper.
Ten
HE’D LOST HER.
Wolfe glanced over. She stared out the window, expressionless, completely removed from the present. He knew where she was, too—an in-between void of numbness and dark space that emptied the soul and left only a husk for earth.
He mourned more than the loss of her presence. In only three days, he’d remembered the joy of being with her, sharing her friendship and laughter, and the person he became around Genevieve MacKenzie.
He didn’t try to bring her back. Plenty of time for that later. Instead, he let the music play loud, and closed in on home.
She’d made the necessary calls with his phone, agreeing to meet at her parents’ house first thing in the morning. If it had been earlier, they would’ve waited up, so he was glad she’d be able to have a few more hours alone. Thank goodness David hadn’t answered. Her awkward voice mail message made Wolfe wince. He had a gut instinct the man was playing some game with Gen beyond that of a heartbroken dumpee. The only thing Wolfe could do was keep an eye on Gen and make sure she was protected. He drove past the Welcome to Verily sign and crawled down Main Street toward the bungalow. Kennedy and Nate had rented it for a while before deciding to move to a bigger place, so thankfully it was empty. Wolfe wouldn’t be surprised if Kate was waiting at the door though. That woman was hard-core mean when it came to protecting her best friend.
The streetlamp flickered as he pulled up to her cheerful yellow house, which looked as happy as she used to be.
“Ready, sweetheart?”
She nodded and climbed out. Grabbing their bags from the trunk, he walked up the curved pavement.
She froze in the doorway. He peered over to study the scene.
The place looked empty. Sure, it was still fully furnished, with the aqua blue sofa and throw cushions, bright watercolors on the walls, braided rugs, and the sturdy pine table that reminded him of Mama Conte’s. The curvy metal spiral staircase leading to the tiny loft/attic gave the place a quaint charm. But the space pulsed with a hollow gloom, and a fine sheen of dust covered the surfaces. It had been empty only for a few months, but damned if he didn’t get the impression of sadness, as if the place needed human inhabitants in order to be happy.
“I never thought I’d be back here,” she said faintly. “I have nothing. No clothes. No laptop. Not even my toothbrush.”
He gently pushed her through and shut the door behind them. “That’s easily fixed in the morning. Besides, I’m not minty fresh myself. I’ll run into town early and get what you need.”
“David wanted me to put it on the market. I refused. Not sure why.”
He didn’t say the truth because they both knew it. She’d sensed something wasn’t right between them, and selling her home gave her no exit plan. Wolfe checked the closets and found a set of sheets and blankets. He quickly made the bed while she stood and watched, so exhausted she seemed to sway on her feet. He took her hand, pushed her gently onto the edge of the mattress, and knelt before her. Untying her sneakers, he removed them, giving each foot a quick squeeze, then urged her under the quilt. Her face reflected a childlike trust that made his gut clench and a fierce sense of possession rush through him. Damned if he wouldn’t battle anyone in order to protect her. He’d let her go once to another and her heart got trashed.