Page 70 of Kissing Her Rescuer

“People change,” she said. And that sat at the center of her fear. Dewey would change. She'd give up everything, toss her and Carrie's heart onto a ship that might sink. She’d saved them both once. She didn’t want to do it again.

She didn’t know if she could do it again. Walking through hell once in a lifetime was enough.

He muttered something she didn’t catch and took a step toward the door. “We will talk about this again when you’re feeling better. Call me when Carrie wakes up.” And he left.

She rubbed her chest, her heart breaking as the door to the house slammed shut. Dewey's house now. The bedroom she grew up in didn't belong to her anymore. She drove a car Dewey purchased. Lived in a house Dewey bought. Hell, the pajamas Carrie wore were a gift from Dewey.

She'd already ended up on the damn ship.

Her life was out of control again.

Taking two deep breaths, trying to quell her nausea from that realization, she ran to the bathroom and grabbed her toothbrush. There was no time to get sick. She needed space. Air to breathe. Distance between her and Dewey. She’d give Carrie another day, but then she was gone.

She had to figure it out before she drowned again.

23

Two sixteen-hour days in the field, in addition to the shifts he pulled at the station, left Dewey weary but no closer to figuring out what to do about Eliza. Working to keep his mind occupied had helped in the past. With Carrie involved, it took physical exhaustion to fall asleep.

He'd texted and called Eliza the first day after he’d left, trying to find out about Carrie’s illness. The short, one-word answers sent a clear message that she didn’t need his help.

Dewey slammed the tailgate of his truck closed. He couldn’t take a deep breath without Carrie and Eliza in his life. Eliza seemed to do just fine without him.

Nash met him at his truck, parked on the backside of one of the cotton fields. “It's not like you to work this hard,” Nash said, leaning against the back of the truck. Dewey climbed onto the 4-wheeler, driving it to the barn to park it for the night. Too bad Nash didn’t get the message he didn’t want company and leave. He stood in the same spot when Dewey returned.

“And that’s saying something,” Nash added.

Dewey didn't want his friend's advice. His mom, Ms. Peggy, Cameron, even Hugh had said things to him the past two days. They all summed up to the same advice: Give her time.

He'd given her time since she'd come back to Statem seven months ago. How much longer did she need to realize that he wasn't Zach? That he wouldn't change? He hadn’t changed in the past ten years loving her, it sure as hell wouldn’t change in another ten.

“I'm just trying to keep myself busy. Giving Eliza her space like everyone said to do. I've tried to call her a few times, texted her, but she's not answering me anymore. I'm going to catch her in the morning and see Carrie, at least.” Because he needed Carrie. That was part of the reason his life had tilted out of balance.

Nash rubbed his chin. “I got some news and wanted to tell you in person. Hugh caught me when I was leaving the diner about twenty minutes ago. Hugh figured Eliza and Carrie were staying with you.”

Dewey paused in wiping off his hands. “What?”

“She hasn't been home. I told him that they hadn't been out here, at least not that I've seen.”

The sounds around him heightened. The buzz of the gnats. The thump of his heart. “Are you telling me she’s gone?”

Nash’s frown deepened.

“Shit.” He scanned the field, trying to slow his mind down and think. “She wouldn’t…”

Nash grimaced. “It was my first thought. She got freaked out. Felt alone like last time. I talked to Cameron and Becky. They haven’t seen her either. I didn’t want to come out here, letting you know, without having done a little research. I don’t know what I would do if it were Lexi.”

Dewey jumped in his truck, turning it on and flying out before he heard another thing. She was gone with a two-day head start. His gut reaction that she'd run again made his body grow numb. He slammed his hand on the wheel. Even after swearing that he'd never again find himself in this situation, here he was. A dumbass who'd thrown his heart into the blender on purpose.

He dialed Becky as he ran through a red light on the two-lane, country highway.

“I know why you're calling,” she answered, sounding anxious. “I don't know where she is.”

“Carrie?”

“She's gone, too.” She sniffled. “God, Dewey. Do you think something happened to them?”

His phone beeped, and he swapped to the other line. “Please tell me you've heard from her, Cam.”

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