1. Zane

1

ZANE

Finding her looked different in my head.

In my head, I never followed Mira through the water-stained hallways of some pay-by-the hour motel.

In my head, she is already at home with me, and two horrible weeks haven't passed, and we're tangled in my sheets, fucking for the hundredth time like the darker parts of life don't even exist.

But this isn't happening in my head.

This is real.

The private investigator I hired woke me up with a phone call at two in the morning to tell me he had a lead. "Sunshine Ray's, room 315."

"You're sure?" I asked, already sliding out of bed and pulling on the jeans I shucked off a few measly hours ago. Sunshine Ray's—that's a motel just outside the city. I can be there in half an hour. "You laid eyes on her this time?"

"Black hair, legs for days. It's your woman."

Forgive me for having my doubts, but " my woman" has allegedly been spotted in southern California, Utah, New Mexico, even as far east as Austin, Texas. None of them panned out. No matter how fast I ran there or how long I searched, I never found her.

Aiden has been at Jace's or Reeves's house more than he's been at home. I've missed more practices in the last two weeks than in the last six years combined. I'm running on fucking fumes and clinging to every tiny lead.

But this time is different.

This time… I saw her .

It was a glimpse from the motel parking lot—silky black hair whipping around a corner with an ice bucket under her arm—but it's the closest I've been to Mira in two weeks.

I stalk down the hallway, studying every room number. They're not in any kind of order, as far as I can tell. By the looks of the rust brown stains on the carpet and the patched-over holes in the walls, the front office has good reason to make the layout as confusing as possible. If all of their best clients get arrested in what I have to assume are frequent raids, they'd go out of business.

Room 629… Room 428… Room 135.

I'm about to turn around and force the gangly man behind the front desk to take me to Room 315 himself… when, suddenly, there it is.

It's at the end of the second floor, wedged between a maintenance closet and the back stairs down to the parking lot. The window is closed tight, but there are muffled voices coming through the thin door.

I press my ear to the warped wood.

There are shuffling noises, heavy breathing. Then a hard, quick slapping sound.

"Stop fighting," a man growls. "Let me choke you."

Mira is supposed to be alone. In the few emails she's sent to Taylor, she hasn't mentioned being with anyone else.

But I don't think. Don't hesitate.

I just step back, lower my shoulder, and plow through the cheap door. It's there one second, gone the next, replaced by a view of the queen-sized motel bed through the shattered frame.

A woman is on her back along the end of the bed, her head tipped over the side, mouth open, a cheap polyester dress twisted up high over her hips. A naked man is standing over her, with a dick not capable of choking anyone clutched in his tight fist.

"Who the hell are you?!" he gasps, twisting away to give me a full view of his pale, pimpled ass. "If you're the police, you have to announce yourself first!"

I ignore the moron and—oh, fucking hell. Her hair is red.

Her hair is red.

Copper-colored tresses cascade over the side of the bed to the threadbare carpet as the woman gawks at me from upside down. There's a massive tattoo along the woman's thigh and over her hip.

It's not Mira.

"Where is she?" I growl. Hope is curdling in my chest, but I ignore it. I have to.

The guy flings a hand at the woman in front of him. "She's right fucking here. What do you mean? Who are you?—"

"Dark hair," I spit. "A woman with long, dark hair. She was staying here."

He frowns for a fraction of a second. Then there's recognition. His eyes go wide. "I didn't touch her. She wasn't here for me. She left as soon as we got here."

When I saw Mira from the parking lot, I thought she was walking back to her room. She was moving this direction…

I don't wait for more of an explanation—I hurtle through the gaping door and turn for the stairs.

I pound down the metal staircase and leap from the fourth step, landing hard on the concrete. Jace would yell at me to be careful. I've been flaky the last couple weeks; the last thing I need is to tear my ACL and let Carson finish out this season on a high. He'd win the captain spot for sure.

Not that I give an ounce of a flying fuck about that now.

I sprint down the length of the building and take a hard right towards the front office.

And there she is.

She's standing under the glowing security light stationed next to the front door. It's the only working light in the entire lot. She might as well be on a stage. Her back is to me, but it's her. Dark hair, long legs. Just like the P.I. said.

My woman.

Taylor told me Mira would come back if she wanted to. "She disappears and pops back up all the time. Just give her some space."

"Or you can let her go," Daniel suggested once Taylor was out of earshot. "You have Aiden and yourself to think about. No one would blame you for moving on."

How about option three?

I angle across the parking lot at a breakneck pace.

She hears the gravel under my feet and starts to turn as I grab her shoulder and whip her around.

"I found you," I pant, at the exact same time that this woman I definitely do not know screams in my face.

"Get off of me!" she shrieks, flailing until I let go and stumble back. "Don't fucking touch me!"

Her hair is dark, but up close, it's thin and greasy and tangled. She's either lived a hard life or she's twenty years older than Mira, at least. Probably both.

It's not her and I should've known from several football fields away, but I saw what I wanted to see.

I saw Mira.

"I-I'm sorry." I hold up my hands in surrender, but quickly lower them when she flinches away. "I thought you were?—"

The woman is shaking. The man behind the front desk is staring out at us, his hand resting on the phone.

I could explain myself, but it doesn't matter. I just turn around and walk away.

As soon as I come through the door, Daniel is there. He doesn't ask, but I feel the question burning inside of him.

"It wasn't her," I grumble, shuffling to the fridge. "Obviously."

I've spent so many hours on the road the last two weeks that the fridge is almost empty. Jemma offered to pick Aiden and Jalen up from preschool and take them back to her house. Most days, she feeds Aiden dinner, too.

I haven't eaten anything that wasn't a protein shake or from a takeout container in weeks.

I slam the fridge closed and pour myself a glass of water from the tap instead.

Daniel sighs. "Have you considered—I mean, the P.I. you're working with is legit, right? If she was out there to be found, he would've found her. Maybe she isn't… Maybe she's…"

"Dead?" I snap, whipping around to face him. "You can say it. It's not like I haven't thought it a thousand fucking times. Mira could be dead."

Her apartment was ransacked.

The window was open.

No one else knows about Mira's dad or her brother. Taylor thinks the apartment was probably broken into while Mira was living with me. A run-of-the-mill robbery.

I'd be inclined to believe her… if I didn't know better.

I assumed she escaped, but maybe her sadistic brother caught up to her. Or maybe he dragged her away from the open window and hauled her back to his car.

I've considered every possibility, theories constantly running through my head while I'm in the shower and lying in bed and strapping on my skates. But the only one I can allow myself to think about is the one where Mira got away. Where she's safe, but on the run.

The only theory I can stomach is the one where she comes home to me.

Daniel leans on his elbows. "You know I don't want that to be true. Not even just for you. For Taylor, too. She doesn't show it, but she's been a wreck since Mira left. But I hate seeing you like this." He droops. "But the team—Coach, especially—is worried."

I narrow my eyes. "I don't give a shit about how I'm playing. Mira is missing. That's more important than hockey. If Coach wants to bench me, then he?—"

"They're worried about you ," Daniel cuts in. "I am, too. We want to find Mira, but we also want you to be okay if, at the end of this, that doesn't happen."

I sag back against the fridge, suddenly exhausted. "It's not me I'm worried about."

As if on cue, a small voice echoes down the hallway.

It's my son.

"He hasn't woken up once since I got here," Daniel says. "Do you want me to go talk to him or do you?—?"

"I got it." I wave him towards the door. "Thanks for coming over so late. I appreciate it."

Daniel smiles. "What are best friends if not middle-of-the-night babysitters? I was just doing my job."

I let him out and set the alarm. I've trusted the building's security since I moved in a couple years ago, but with everything that has happened, an additional security system seemed like a good idea. I would've up and moved Aiden by now—got us somewhere outside the city center, somewhere with a yard—but if Mira comes back, I want her to know where to find us.

I lean against the wall for just a second as a new wave of disappointment craters my chest, hollowing me out. I need to sleep and eat a real meal. Everyone around me is right to be a little worried. I feel like I'm barely holding it together.

Then I shove off the wall and walk to Aiden's room.

The closer I get, the louder his voice is. When I crack open the door, his room is still dark, but I can hear him… singing?

It takes me a few seconds to place the song. To realize the words he's sniffling through are Italian.

It's the song Mira taught him. The Italian lullaby.

My skin feels sticky from just stepping foot in that seedy motel, but I drop down onto the bed next to Aiden's lump in the middle.

His voice cuts off. A second later, he pokes his head out of the top of his covers. His eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. "I had a bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He frowns, considering it. He blinks back more tears. "We were at the park. Mira was there. She went down the slide with me."

A few weeks before Mira moved out, we all went to the park. Aiden convinced Mira to go down the tall metal slide with him over and over again. When they were finished, we crowded onto a blanket and ate sandwiches Mira made for us.

It was a good day.

I smooth his hair back from his forehead. Shit, it's getting shaggy. He needs a haircut. "That doesn't sound scary."

"Not scary." He scooches closer to me, his head pillowed on my knee. "But I woked up. I didn't want to, but I did."

My breath catches in my chest. I can't believe I thought for even a second that Aiden would be better off without Mira around.

He sniffles, burrowing deeper into my side. "When is she coming back? Where is she?"

"I don't know," I mutter, stroking his unruly hair the way I so often saw Mira doing. "But I'm going to find out."