“Not sure you’d be much help right now.” I gestured down his frame.
“I still want to help in any way I can.”
“You can help me by getting better. Think you can do that?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good,” I answered with a tight smile, unsure if I shrugged off his offer of help because I truly wanted him to focus on getting better.
Or because I couldn’t shake the feeling he was keeping something from me.
Something important.
Chapter Seven
Ariana
The ocean air cooled my skin as I sat on a lounge chair on the patio of Henry’s house in Coral Gables, Cato sleeping on the ground beside me, his soft snores barely audible over the sound of the nearby waves.
There was once a time when the feel of the ocean breeze on my skin was one of my only sources of comfort. Now it felt lacking. I’d only been here a few hours, and I already missed the quiet tranquility of Henry’s farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.
While Henry was happy for me to accompany him down to Florida so he could check on Blake, he didn’t want to risk me being recognized in public, not when I was still technically missing.
After his private jet landed, he drove me to his place in Coral Gables, double and triple checked all the security, then left for the hospital, leaving me to entertain myself. Which wasn’t too hard, considering this house also had a large library filled with books.
But the longer Henry was gone, the more I started to worry about him.
Did something happen?
Was this a trap, too?
Did the cops figure out what really happened and arrest Henry at the hospital when he showed up to visit Blake?
Hundreds of different scenarios filtered through my brain with every passing minute.
Suddenly, Cato jumped up and darted inside the house, his barks echoing through the space.
I scrambled to my feet and hurried inside, exhaling a relieved breath when I reached the foyer and saw Henry scratching Cato’s head.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. “How’s Blake?”
“He’s fine. A little banged up, but he’ll recover.”
“That’s great,” I replied with a smile.
But Henry didn’t match my enthusiasm. Instead, he seemed…tired. Burdened somehow.
I told myself it didn’t matter. The last few days had been trying. So much had happened. So much had been revealed. He was probably just processing everything.
“I’m going to hop in the shower. Wash the hospital off me,” he uttered softly, moving toward the stairs, not stopping to kiss me.
I tried not to read too much into it. But when he walked past me and I caught a whiff of alcohol, I knew something was bothering him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, following him.
“I’m fine.” He pushed out a long sigh. “It’s just been a rough couple of days.”
I watched as he pulled himself up the stairs, unable to shake the feeling in my gut he wasn’t being completely honest with me.