Page 121 of The Voice We Find

“This is a little too personal for a second-chance meeting, chap. I mean, yes, we do love the same woman and all, but I do have boundaries.”

The purring continues, and soon the outside air doesn’t feel quite so cold. This chubby guy is a living heater. In what might be the most unnatural gesture of goodwill yet, I stroke a hand through the soft fur on his back. He seems to relax into me all the more. I imagine Sophie doing this very thing, and I do my best not to give in to the fear that I’m too late.

31

Sophie

Ihalf expected Natalie to pass out as soon as she was buckled into the passenger seat. By the sounds of it, she hasn’t had a full night’s sleep since those two blue lines first appeared on her pregnancy test. And there’s no wonder as to why. But instead, she has the alertness of a teenager at a sleepover after drinking one too many Red Bulls.

When Agent Terrell walked us out of the station, he promised he would keep us in the loop as the investigation progressed and encouraged us to call him if anything came up. He warned me privately to keep a close eye on Natalie in the coming weeks as the emotional fallout from these types of cases can hit hard, and he encouraged me to get her into counseling with a professional so she can find the healing she deserves.

I assured him I’d do everything in my power to help her walk this difficult road and thanked him for his concern and care.

By the time I navigate us through two different drive-throughs toappease Natalie’s pregnancy cravings—chicken tacos with extra hot sauce and a vanilla soft serve ice cream cone—it’s nearly midnight. Now, with cone in hand, she’s finally trying to unwind by scrolling on her phone and watching funny reels. I’m glad that one of us still has some battery life left. My phone died hours ago.

She bolts straight upright. “What the—”

“What?” I squeal, fighting to stay in my own lane.

“There’s a few notifications from the winery’s security cameras.” She’s frantically tapping at her phone screen and zooming in on a grainy figure. “Someone’s there, Sophie.”

“Who?” My gut flips. “Is it one of the employees?” But even as I ask it, I have no clue why any of our employees would be on the property at this time of night on a Saturday. We’re closed on Sundays.

“I don’t know, I don’t recognize him.” She holds the screen up in the dark cab. “Do you?”

I slow the pickup truck as I spare a quick glance at her screen. My jaw slacks as soon as recognition sets in.

“What?” Natalie’s voice has jumped several rungs on the panic ladder. “Do you know him? Maybe we should pull over so I can call Agent Terrell? He offered to provide us with a security detail if we—”

“It’s August.”

“August as inyourAugust?”

“Yes,” I confirm.My August. At least, that’s what my heart still calls him.

She holds the phone closer to her face. “So why is he out there? And more importantly, why is he sleeping on a pool chaise with your cat?”

I twist my head and gawk at her. “He’s doingwhat?”

“Hang on, let me rewind until ... oh.” She watches for several more seconds and then taps on the screen to pause it. “Looks like he had a chat with him first.”

“I highly doubt that. August is not a cat fan.”

“Hang on. Here.” Natalie turns up the volume on her phone and soon, August’s voice fills the cab.

“You know, I never much cared for the talking-animal movies as a kid, but I can definitely see how that particular brand of magic would come in handy right about now.”

Natalie and I glance at each other and bust out laughing. This really is happening. August, the self-proclaimed cat nemesis, has been caught on video making small talk with Phantom. We eavesdrop on his one-way conversation the rest of the way home. Natalie oohs and ahhs when August asks Phantom if he thinks I’ve already left for the airport, and I can’t help the fluttery, hopeful feeling that inflates my lungs.

Natalie beams at her phone screen as if she’s watching a popular reality TV show, and I tuck this moment away for safekeeping. Natalie’s last few years have been terrible, the last few weeks even more so, but tonight she’s found a reason to smile again. And that feels like the beginning of something good.

“Looks like he dozed off out there,” she says as I pull up to the house. “He’s gonna freeze if you leave him out there too long.”

“He’ll be fine.” I love the man, but at the moment, he has a lot of explaining to do before I run into his arms and forget all about what he said—and didn’t say—the last night we spent together at the fire.

I unbuckle and come around to Natalie’s door to help her out so she doesn’t trip over all the excess fabric she’s toting around in that dress. “Let’s get you inside and up the stairs so I can help you out of this—”

“No.” Her stare is resolved. “I’m not as fragile as I look, Sophie. I plan to take a hot bath and then fall asleep in a room I haven’t slept in before.” She gives me a quick hug. “Thank you for everything you did for me tonight. I’ll never forget it.”

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