31. Missed Calls

31

E ver since the hotel, Chance and I had been in this awkward sort of limbo.

We were definitely more affectionate now than we had ever been before. Most days we'd cuddle on the couch in the lounge while he talked to me about his photography and showed me some of his favorite photos he had taken. Other times, his amused eyes would follow me as I paced back and forth in front of the fireplace as I ran through my lesson plans and lectures, before he'd eventually grab my hand and pull me to him, just to hold me for a moment and breathe me in.

He was always within reach, more often than not, somehow physically touching me, which I loved. However, there was still a chasm between us.

And each night, he'd wrap me up in a tight hug, kiss me soundly, surely knowing he was leaving me aching and wanting more. But then he'd leave for his own room, climbing back down the snow-covered fire escape, which I was certain was one screw away from disconnecting from the exterior wall and plunging him to his death, not that Chance would listen to me.

Even I couldn't quite figure out what I wanted. At some moments, I felt such relief that he was giving me space to process everything, just as I had asked. But at other times, I was desperate for his touch and longed for him to make a move. I wasn't sure when or what it would take for my inner turmoil to calm and for things to become more clear.

I felt fortunate that Chance seemed to read me better with every passing day. Whether I wanted him inside my head or not, it appeared as though he had already made himself quite comfortable, readying himself for the moment things changed. But I didn't want him to wait on me forever.

I was actively trying to work through my emotions to feel comfortable and confident enough to push through whatever was blocking me from letting go of the last bits of my anxiety and hesitation. I was close, but not quite there yet.

The day before New Year's Eve, Chance received a response from Bryce Osbourne, the previous year's student newspaper's editor-in-chief. Neither of us had been expecting a response over break, as Bryce had graduated the year before and was at college across the country.

"What does it say!?" I nudged Chance over on the couch, crowding into his personal space.

"Geez, give me a minute." He pulled the laptop between us and double-clicked on the email, which read:

Good afternoon Mr. Harper, I'm sorry about what happened to Daniel, but I'm glad to hear that you are still looking into his disappearance. I agree, he was far too driven and bright to have simply run away, as the police have concluded. Unfortunately, Daniel was always rather secretive about his projects, not wanting to put anyone else at risk, and if I'm honest, I think he didn't trust that it would stay a secret long at Montgomery, so complete discretion was required. What I do know about the exposé he was writing at the time of his disappearance was that he was investigating a matter that involved Headmaster Winston. Daniel mentioned working with an inside source to gather evidence and testimony from witnesses. I remember him saying he believed what the source told him about the headmaster, but I got the sense he didn't trust them completely. When I asked for more information about the source's identity, he refused. I just wanted him to be safe, but he thought he was doing the right thing by protecting their identity. I guess I'll never know. You also asked about where he saved his research. He had a bright orange external drive he always kept on him, which he used to store his files. He did have another backup somewhere, but I didn't even bother asking him where it was. He wouldn't have told me. I wish there was more. I wish Daniel was still raising hell at Montgomery. Please keep me updated on what you find, and if you have any other questions, I would be glad to help. Good luck, Bryce

I released a loud sigh, and Chance leaned back into the couch. Both of us processed what we had just read.

"Daniel was investigating the headmaster," Chance said, vindication on his tongue.

"And it seemed he had an inside source with dirt to share, and maybe even other witnesses," I added.

"It gives Winston the motive we thought he was lacking," Chance thought aloud. "Do we know where he was when Daniel went missing?"

I swallowed. "He was here. I saw him. Most of the school saw him. He was busy with the rest of the admin staff preparing for the graduation ceremony."

"Winston has the trifecta. He had motive: Daniel was going to pin something big on him. He had opportunity: we know he was around the school the last day Daniel was seen. And I think he easily had the means. Winston would do anything to save his reputation—Wayne Davies said the same thing. If a student was going to take him down, I have no doubt he would have done something drastic to stop it from happening."

Chance laid out a good argument, and I didn't like Winston either, but I wasn't completely sold. I needed more proof. We needed the drive. "You don't think it's weird that Bryce said he didn't trust his source completely?"

"Maybe he was worried they'd change their mind or get scared and tell Winston what Daniel was doing?" Chance hypothesized.

"Without his files, we'll never know." I rested my chin in my palms.

Chance and I were silent for a while, both mentally reviewing what we knew so far. I was surprised when Chance next spoke.

"How much have you thought about what Davies said?" Chance asked out of the blue.

"I don't know. I mean, he didn't exactly tell us anything we didn't already know."

"Well, he said that the headmaster was his lead suspect," Chance stated.

I nodded, agreeing with him.

Chance ran his hands over his face, sighing in frustration. He looked down at the floor as he continued. "The thing is, I know in my heart that Daniel is gone. However horrible that is to say, I feel it in my gut."

He looked up at me, his blue-grey eyes glassy. "I still want to know what happened to him, but what if we push too hard and we get hurt like he did? I just don't know if this is worth it anymore."

I opened my mouth to argue that we needed to continue, but Chance's phone rang out for the umpteenth time that day.

He scowled at the caller, silenced the phone, and shoved it back in his pocket.

I cocked my head at him, waiting for an explanation. I'd already been more than patient.

"What?" he snapped.

"You know what. Who's been calling you nonstop all day?" I folded my arms over my chest, thinking it might make me look tougher than I felt.

Chance groaned, slumping back against the couch, running a nervous hand through his hair. "It's Amanda."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what does she want? Why aren't you taking her call?"

I tried to reach into his pocket to grab his phone, but he caught my wrist before I got the chance.

"We said no secrets," I pouted.

Chance rolled his eyes, annoyed that he'd been bested.

I grinned at him, waiting for him to spill.

"Every year my parents host a big New Year's Eve party."

I waited for him to continue, but he did not. "And?"

"And Amanda wants me to go."

"Is it in Portland?" I asked, knowing that was where Chance's family home was, after all the stalking Jolene and I had done on Thomas Roberts while we had been trying to figure out who Chance really was.

Chance nodded, his face grim.

"But you don't want to go?" I inferred.

"I'd rather claw my eyes out," he deadpanned.

"But Amanda wants you to go?" He was not making this easy for me.

"She has a new boyfriend she wants me to meet." He shrugged. "I've been telling her I'm not going for weeks, but she won't take no for an answer."

"You should go. I thought you were on good terms with Amanda?" I was confused.

"I am. But she'll be there with her boyfriend, and then I'll be left on my own, surrounded by jackals." Chance sneered. "I'm telling you, these parties are awful . Everyone makes polite chatter with backhanded undertones. It's so fake—all pomp and circumstance. I hate it."

"But you love Amanda?" I knew the answer, but I asked anyway.

Chance huffed but did not respond.

"She's your only sister. She wants your approval because your father is a dickhead. Maybe just go and suck it up for her," I reasoned.

"I can't stand to be in the same room as my dad after I learned what happened with Daniel and his mom. He doesn't even care that Daniel went missing. I can't see him." Chance gritted his teeth, as if the thought of seeing his father made him physically ill to even consider.

I took a beat. I hoped I wouldn't regret what I was about to offer. "I could go with you," I said softly.

"What?" Chance raised an eyebrow.

I sighed, knowing he'd heard me. He was just being difficult. "If you want, I'd go with you," I said more solidly.

The corners of his lips quirked. "Really? You would?"

I immediately grew suspicious. "Did you plan this? Is this some sort of elaborate ploy you've concocted with your sister?" I accused him.

Chance placed a hand over his heart, "Violet, darling, you wound me. You always think the worst of me."

His theatrics did not diffuse my cynicism. He hadn't outright denied the allegations. "If I find out this was all a ruse—and I will be asking your sister—I will make sure you regret it."

Chance knelt down on the carpet in front of me, which considering our difference in height, put him at eye level with me. He took my face into his palms and gave me a soft kiss.

"You already said you'd go. You can't back out now," he whispered, smiling sweetly.