This. That overwhelming pressure that had been on and off ever since those horrible moments before I launched myself at Sparkles returned to my chest. But once again, I didn’t feel ready to talk about what had preceded my outburst. All kinds of emotions clogged my vocal cords.
Seconds ticked by slowly until I cleared my throat. “If I had known you were going to start checking on my feelings, I would have dedicated this time to something else. Like a podcast. You know how much I love to drive to a deep voice recounting a complex and gruesome murder.”
“I’m being serious,” he said softly. Too softly. So much that it made that weight in my chest shift.
“Honestly, Matthew,” I told him, my tone coming out a little harsh out of pure survival. “I expected you to have shirts with #sparklesgate or #LadyBirdinator printed and in the mail by now. This touchy-feely display is disappointing.”
It wasn’t, but I couldn’t sift through everything currently rioting inside me.
The sound of him letting out a long and deep exhale came through the speaker. “Fuck, Addy.” He laughed, and this time I let that Addy slip. “Now, you’ve ruined my surprise.”
I felt myself relax. Only slightly.
Because just in time, I noticed the road ahead starting to twist, jutting in and out of a copse of trees. Where the heck was I?
“Can we get back to the reason why I called you?” I asked. “I should be close enough to my destination now, and I’d like to know what’s waiting for me when I get there.”
“All right,” he agreed, the sound of the keys on his laptop coming through the line again. “So we’re looking for the Green Warriors.”
“Correct. In North Carolina.”
A few seconds went by, then he said, “Nothing. Not a single thing. Are you sure that’s the right name?”
Old Adalyn would say that I was. But I wasn’t. The last twenty-four hours had been proof of how much I no longer was old Adalyn. “Try Green Oak. Try…” This was supposed to be a philanthropic venture, so perhaps I shouldn’t expect the team to be making headlines. “Try recreational.”
My last word seemed to hang in the reduced space inside the car, quiet except for the sound of the tires against the uneven pavement underneath.
When had I entered a dirt road? And why was Matthew not speaking? Was I out of reception?
I eyed the screen of my phone. The bars were there. “Matthew?”
A groan.
Oh no. “What did you find?”
“You’re not going to be happy about this.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Have you packed sensible footwear?”
“Sensible? You mean house slippers?” I frowned. “I will be here for weeks, so yes.”
“Not slippers. More like boots.”
“Boots?” I repeated.
“The outdoorsy kind. You know, comfortable and sturdy and not attached to a five-inch heel.”
“I know what boots are.” I rolled my eyes, even though I hadn’t been thinking of that kind. “I’m going to work, though. I’m not here for a day trip to…” I eyed the maps app again. “A very large ridge of mountains.” Where in the world was this town? God. I should have really done my research before jumping on that plane. “I plan to dedicate as much time to the Green Warriors as I did to my job for the Flames. Plus, on the off chance that I have some free time, which I won’t, you know that I don’t engage in activities that include the use of Gore-Tex and the risk of falling off a cliff.”
“Oh, but you will.”
I frowned, taking a right on yet another dirt road. “What does that mean?”
The click of keys. Another groan.
My ears popped. God, how high was I? “Matthew, I’m about three seconds away from hanging up on you.”
“All right. What do you want first? The bad news? Or the worse news?”
“There’s no good news?” I asked, squinting my eyes and spotting the intersection I was headed for. I took the turn, the road changing to a mountain trail of sorts. Pebbles started jumping under the tires, hitting the bottom of the rental. I held on to the steering wheel. Tight. This couldn’t be right. I was pretty sure I shouldn’t be driving on a road like this one. The whole car was shaking—vibrating—with the bumps on the road that wasn’t really a road. “I think I’ve made a mistake.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Matthew said. And if I had really been listening, I would have heard the urgency in his voice. But I was too busy wondering why this wasn’t a town. I was entering a property tucked into the thick of the woods. The woods.
Matthew continued talking, his words getting lost in my head as I rounded a cabin. A cabin. An honest-to-God cabin with wooden beams and windows looking out at the mass of trees I’d left behind.
This couldn’t be right.
For some unfathomable reason, on my way here, I’d built up this idea in my head. On the plane, I’d convinced myself that I was heading to a North Carolina city—maybe a suburb, which would explain why I hadn’t heard of it. This was an assignment, after all. A philanthropic venture led by an MLS team. It was a serious project in a real town. But I found that hard to believe now.
Whatever place this property was attached to couldn’t be a city. Or a suburb. It didn’t look like there was a large enough town anywhere close, either.
I was surrounded by… nature. Woodland. Slopes covered in emerald greens and coppery browns. I’d driven down dirt roads that had led me to the kind of property I saw advertised as a rustic alpine retreat. There were birds chirping. Leaves rustling. Wind gusting. Silence.
I hated it.
I’d been too careless. Too hasty. I should have checked the location Kelly had sent me before programming it into the maps app. I should have researched. I should have—
“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the female voice of my maps app chanted.
I ignored the clogging sensation at the bottom of my throat and rounded the cabin again, looking for a place to park. There had to be an explanation. A reason. Probably a major town I’d missed coming up a shortcut in the mountains. And, hey, at least the cabin was… tasteful. Most people would be glad to be given the opportunity to escape to such a peaceful place. Mountain-fresh air. Cozy sunsets under a blanket. A porch facing the greenery.
But I wasn’t most people.
I hated the cold. And I didn’t have that strange need to travel across the country in search of fresh air. I liked Miami’s air. The city. The coast. Even the overwhelming heat. My job with the Flames. My life.
My stomach twisted, a ball of nausea climbing up.
Images of Sparkles’s head dropping to the grass flashed behind my eyes.
Breach of contract.
Female rage.
Embarrassing.
You’re a distraction, so I want you to leave Miami.
My palms turned clammy again, the steering wheel feeling slippery. Was the car still moving or had I put it in park?
“Adalyn?” Matthew asked, reminding me he was still there. Had he been talking? “Talk to me.”
But I was too busy trying to focus on whatever was going on in my body. Was this exhaustion? Dehydration? When was the last time I’d had water? Was I PMS-ing? I shook my head. Oh God, was I losing it again? I—
Something hit the bumper with a thump.
I slammed on the brakes, the action so sudden, so rough, that my whole body shot forward.
My forehead bounced against the steering wheel.
“Ouch.” I heard myself groan through the ringing in my ears.
“ADALYN?” came from somewhere to my right. Matthew’s voice. It sounded muffled now. “Jesus Christ, what just happened?”
“I hit something,” I announced, a stinging sensation burning the right side of my forehead. With a ragged breath, I gave myself three seconds, letting my head rest on the leathery surface of the wheel, before I straightened up and turned my head, looking for my phone, which had fallen from the dashboard.
Matthew’s voice returned.
“Tell me you’re okay or I swear I’ll call your mother right fucking now—”