Page 79 of Crossing Lines

“Me, too.” I stand and collect my things. “I need to get home, to find out what’s going on with Nina.”

“All right, call me later and keep me updated.” Zeki meets my gaze. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.”

I rush up the stairs to Nina’s room, propelled by an urgency I don’t understand. The house is silent, toosilent. Normally, there’s always some sort of indication that Nina is around. Whether it’s her music playing, or a sewing machine whirring, or the smell of paint.

But not now.

I knock on her door, but she doesn’t answer. I knock again, louder, and still nothing. Turning the handle, I open it fully, expecting to find her in bed, but she’s not here.

I check the entire house, and nothing.

She’s gone.

Worried, I call her, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. Nina already ran from me, from the meeting, but now she’s left the house? I run back to her room and whip open her closet door. At least her clothes are still here. But where the hell is she?

I call Hunter.

“Hey,” he answers, “I?—”

“Do you know where Nina is?”

“Yes, why?”

“Is she safe?”

“I hope so. She’s with Elodie and Aria. They went to Berlin to surprise Stella. I don’t think they were supposed to leave for another day, but I guess they decided to go early.”

“Shit,” I murmur. She left? Without an explanation? Without even caring how that’d make me feel? A tornado of anger and hurt spins inside me.

“Is everything okay?” Hunter asks.

“Yeah, of course. I got to go.” I hang up, not wantingHunter to ask more questions. Calling Zeki, he answers on the first ring.

“Nina left,” I say without preamble.

“She did what now?” he asks incredulously.

“She left the country with her friends.”

“Without saying anything? That doesn’t seem like her.”

“Well, maybe we didn’t know her at all.” And that’s the painful part of all this. I get that seeing her father would be shocking, and why she had to go home. But why would she run from me? I thought we had more trust than that, that we were stronger than this. I want to believe the age difference between us doesn’t matter, but maybe it does—because instead of facing it together, she bolted at the first sign of trouble. Maybe she’s not ready for what I thought we were building.

“I would recommend,” Zeki says, “you reserve judgment until you hear her side of the story.”

“If I ever hear it. She…left.” The weight of it hits me again, and I can’t stop the tremor in my voice. Just saying it out loud feels like reopening the wound.

“I know.” Zeki sighs. “I’m coming over with a bottle of raki and we can come up with a game plan.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Since when aren’t you in the mood to discuss work?” Zeki asks, surprise lacing his voice.

“Since now, I guess.”

“Well then, we’ll drink a bottle of raki, eat good food, and watch shitty movies.”

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