53. Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-One

Tatum

One month later…

I slap my hand on my desk, the pain radiating up my arm. “What do you mean, you can no longer work for me?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winters, but there is a conflict of interest with another client,” Adam says from the other side of the phone.

“And you’re only finding out about this now? After you’ve gotten so far?”

Adam sighs. “I’m sorry. I can refer you to someone I trust to handle—”

“Just forget it.” I slam the phone onto the receiver and scrub my hands down my face.

Adam has been working for me for nearly two months as a PI to help me find Devon, considering no one in my life will help me. Seems everyone knows where she is but me, and they won’t tell me. Which is absolute bullshit. Can they not see that I’m trying to make things better? I just want to find her and apologize to her. I miss her. I’m going fucking crazy without her. And now this? The last person I had to help me just up and leaves because of a conflict of interest ? Who the fuck else has an interest in Devon? Someone who is going to lose his fucking limbs if he tries touching her, that’s who.

I get up from my desk, grab my stuff and storm from my office.

“I’m going home,” I bark at Suzie.

She stands. “But, sir, you—”

“I don’t care!”

I leave out the front door. I don’t bother taking the elevator, but instead jog down the stairs. It’s the first week I’m back in the office and the meetings I have are ridiculous. How is it that I have so many people working beneath me, but no one can handle shit while I’m gone? Isn’t that what I’m paying them for? It’s nearly the end of the day anyway. I had only one meeting left, and whoever it was can wait for another day. This is more important.

I’ve had it with no one giving me answers around here.

Once in the garage, I find my car and speed out of there. Of course, I hit a shit ton of traffic because there’s a mix of road work and three goddamn accidents. By the time I make it out and back into town, it’s well past dinnertime.

That isn’t going to stop me from doing what I need to do though.

I make my way to Summer’s apartment complex and park right out front. She’s dodged me for the last time. I’ve come here more times than I can count, and each time she says she won’t tell me where Devon is. Well, I’m done with that. It’s not good enough anymore. She’s going to tell me or there’s going to be problems. I need to find Devon. I can’t fucking take this anymore.

I go up to the second floor, find apartment 2C, and bang on the door.

“Summer, open up!” I bang some more. Constantly, actually, because if the only way I get her to come out here is by annoying her, then I’ll do it. I keep shouting for her and slamming my fist on the door. She’s always home by now, so why the fuck isn’t she answering the door?

“Hello, excuse me? Sir?” someone calls over the pounding on the door.

I turn around at the voice and find an old woman in pajamas and a pink bathrobe glaring at me from her doorway.

“Yeah?” I bark at her.

“The girl ain’t home, so you can stop with the racket,” she says harshly.

“She is home. She’s always home at this time.”

She shakes her head. “It’s Thursday. She’s at dance.”

“Dance? What the fu—”

“That’s what I said. Dance . She won’t be home for another hour. So, if you’d stop with the hootin’ and hollerin’, I’d appreciate it. I can’t hear my stories.”

The woman hobbles into her apartment, closing her door quietly. I grit my teeth, wanting to bang some more just to prove a point. But I keep my temper under control, and instead make myself comfortable on the floor in front of Summer’s door. She is not coming in or out without me knowing about it.

I’m jolted awake to something touching my face. The little girl just laughs, then pokes me in the eye.

“Ah, sh—” I cut myself off before I can swear in front of the kid.

“Bown. Pwetty.” She grins, going for my eye again.

“Astrid, I told you to wait for Mommy. You have to—oh.” Her words fall flat when she reaches the top of the stairs, hands full of grocery bags. I get up carefully, so I don’t knock into Astrid, then go to Summer. I take the bags from her hands, smiling in her face.

“I’m going to help you because you are going to help me, isn’t that right, Summer?”

“Help, help, help,” Astrid says, rocking from side to side and clapping her hands.

Summer grins at me. “I don’t know, Tate. Doesn’t seem like a fair trade.”

“Unlock the door and let me in, Summer.”

“Go home, go home!” Astrid knocks on the door, then puts her ear to it. She locks eyes with me and puts her finger to her lips. “Shhh. Sweepin’.”

I choke back a laugh. Okay, she’s cute.

With a shake of her head, Summer goes to the door, unlocks and opens it.

Astrid runs in and I quickly move in behind her so Summer can’t kick me out. She scoffs, closing the door behind us.

“I could call the cops, you know. ”

“Wee-woo, wee-woo, wee-woo, wee-woo!” Astrid shouts, running in circles. She’s in a pink leotard and fluffy tutu that’s bouncing all around as she goes.

I raise a brow at Summer. “For the child’s entertainment, I’m guessing? Because you surely don’t need them for me. I just want an answer, and I’ll leave.”

I put the bags down on the cluttered table and help her take them out. And by help her, I mean do it myself because she’s just standing there with her hands on her hips while Astrid runs around making ambulance noises even though I think she’s trying to make cop car noises.

Kids.

Summer still hasn’t moved when everything is out of the bags, so I stare right back at her.

“I don’t know where any of this shi… stuff goes.”

Summer grins again. “Look at you being something other than a d-bag.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing the half gallon of milk and putting it in the fridge. I grab the yogurt and cheese sticks next, tossing them in.

“Where is she?” I demand.

Summer shrugs, going for the canned goods and putting them away in the cabinets.

“I don’t remember,” she says, clearly being smart.

“Liar,” I growl. “You know where she is.”

“Don’t think I do,” she adds, grabbing a box of cereal and putting it on top of the fridge. Astrid is still running in circles, but now she’s moo-ing.

Kids are so weird.

“Summer, please. I am begging you. I need to know where she is.”

“You know, Tate. I think if you really knew her, you’d know exactly where she is.”

“I don’t know what that means!” I growl. Dane didn’t say those exact words, but he hinted at it. Don’t they know I’d be there if I knew where she was?

“Which just tells me you don’t want to find her at all. And what makes you think I would tell you where she is after what you did to her?” she snarks.

“Because I miss her, and I need to talk to her. I love her, Summer. I need to find her.”

“You know that Beatles song? The one about love is all you need?”

I sigh, running a hand down my face. “Yes,” I grit out.

She leans close to me, smirking. “It’s bullshit.” She pats me on the chest, then moves by me toward Astrid.

“Just tell me where Devon is!” I shout.

“Auntie Devon beach!” Astrid shouts. “Beach, beach, beach. Fishies. Oh, sand!” She gets on the floor on her stomach and pretends to swim. “Swim beach. Swim water.” She rolls onto her back and starts laughing. Summer looks at me with a frown.

“Big mouth,” she mutters under her breath.

Then it hits me.

Devon is at the beach.

How the fuck did I not figure that out?

I run over to Astrid, pick her up and hug her. “You’re the best kid in the entire world, and I’m going to buy you a pony.” She frowns, looking at me like I’m crazy. “Do you even know what a pony is?”

She shrugs, throwing her hands up. I hand her to her mother.

“Nice chatting, Summer. I appreciate the non-help.” I hurry toward the door.

“You’re not buying my kid a pony!” she shouts.

“We’ll see about that,” I call back as I close the door behind me and hurry down the stairs.

There’s something I have to do before I go to Devon and beg for forgiveness.