“Felicity. She’s gone.” His lips twitch. The prick is loving every moment of this. “According to Isaac, she cleared out the room upstairs and took off sometime earlier this afternoon.”
“Why?” My voice is tight. “Did you fire her?”
“No,” he snarls. “But now that I know you’re so invested, I wish I had.”
“Tell me where she went.Now.”
Adam rises to his feet. “Look, it’s not my job to keep track of the trash you throw away—”
He doesn’t get out the rest of his sentence, because I grab him by the front of his shirt and slam his body up against the nearest wall. The filing cabinets rattle ominously. A picture frame crashes to the floor.
“Jesus!” He’s panting hard, eyes full of fear. “That’s all I know, I swear to god!”
I don’t even bother to hit him before I turn on my heel and leave his office. He’s not worth the effort. My mind is consumed by more important things.
She’s gone.
She’s fucking gone.
I feel hollow as I walk out of The Nightingale, a man cut adrift without a purpose. Coming back here wasn’t just about Felicity, but I’d be lying to myself if she wasn’t a factor in my decision-making. In my head, when I imagined coming back here, things went a hell of a lot differently. I thought I’d knock on her door, pull her into my arms, and tell her…
What, exactly?
That I missed her so much it hurt to breathe while I was gone?
That life without her isn’t something I want to experience again?
That I think I might’ve… I really could’ve…
I shake my head. It doesn’t matter what I’d tell her. Not anymore.
I fucked it up when I left.
I was too slow coming back.
Now, I’ve really lost her.
* * *
“You,”Linc growls, blocking the doorway to the loft. There’s a wary look in his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here, Ryder?”
“Apologizing,” I mutter. “Trying to, anyway. I don’t have a lot of practice.”
His stony expression doesn’t shift, he widens the door a foot as Aiden steps into the frame at his side.
“You don’t have to let me in,” I appeal. “Just listen. Two minutes. Then I’ll go, and I promise I won’t come back.”
Linc’s jaw clenches. “Not a chance, you motherfu—”
“Let him in,” Aiden interrupts. His gaze is slightly softer than Linc’s, but it’s not exactly a beacon of welcome as we walk into the loft in frigid silence.
They settle on the couch as I sit in the recliner. I can tell from Linc’s stance he’d like to reintroduce his fist to my face as he sits on the sofa across from me.
“Two minutes started forty seconds ago,” Aiden reminds me as the quiet drags on.
“Right.” I clear my throat and try to figure out what the hell to say. I had a full plane ride to rehearse exactly how I’d approach this scenario, a million different ways I’d explain my plan to bring them into the fold once I had a chance to talk to Clay in person. Somehow, I’ve got no words as I stare across the gap at two guys I used to call my best friends. My time is running out, so I skip making any excuses and go for simple, brutal honesty instead. “I was a prick.”
“Prick?” Linc snorts. “I’d say more of a backstabbing son-of-a-bitch, but that’s just me.”