Page 5 of Camping with the Boss

His lips thin into a disapproving line. “Now that we’ve got that settled, could you get him?”

My scalp prickles as I glance at the clock on the mantel. It’s after nine. “He—he went to work.” I didn’t hear him leave, but he must have.

“Obviously, that’s not true.” His words are barely controlled. “You’re trying my patience.”

All this time, I’ve thought my brother was exaggerating. Everyone complains about their boss, right? But Wade Darianisan asshole. His huff of annoyance brings my gaze to his face. His eyes flash with irritation. Frustration. And something else. Something closer to…fear? That can’t be right.

But it’s a bit freeing for some reason.

“Sorry about that.” I’m not, but it has the intended effect.

“Get. Him. Now.”

I quirk an eyebrow. And for a second, I think he’s going to do it. Give me the word I’m silently asking for. But I should’ve known “please” isn’t in his vocabulary.

He growls, and…damn, that’s sexy. Objectively speaking.I’mnot attracted to him. “Very well,” he says, spitting out the words. “I’ll get him myself.”

He storms through the house, opening doors. The closet—seriously?—the bathroom, the stairs to the basement.

I jump in front of him, and he barely stops himself from barreling into me. The result is he’s standing a little too close. His expensive cologne tries to draw me in. But I’m somehow able to resist burying my nose in his neck and inhaling. I gaze up and up into his stormy eyes.

“I owe River an apology,” I say a little breathlessly, not clearing up the boyfriend thing. It’s none of his business. I clear my throat. “He was right. You are a dick.”

He sucks in a breath. And then he seems to get bigger. “Is that what he said?”

Shit.What am I doing? “Um, it was implied.” I mentally kick myself. River needs this job. Stepping back for self-preservation, I gesture toward the kitchen table. “Have a seat, Mr. Darian, while I get him. There’s coffee if you want it.” It’s definitely cold by now. “I’ll be right back.”

I don’t wait for an answer. When I reach River’s door, I put my ear against it and listen. Nothing. If he went back to sleep, I’m going to kick his butt. Seriously.

Bracing myself, I knock. No answer. “I’m coming in, River,” I announce as I open the door and duck to avoid any flying objects.

But there are no baseballs or golf balls or balls of any type zipping through the air.

There’s also no River.

A pit opens up in my stomach as I check his closet. His suitcases are missing. I check his nightstand. His phone charger is gone and so is the picture of the four of us. Mom, Dad, River, and me. We were on a float trip at Merrimac Caverns. All smiling—because we didn’t know what the future had in store.

He really is gone.

I can’t focus on that without curling up in a ball of pain, so instead, I concentrate on my breathing. And the note.

Can,

Please don’t hate me. I needed to get away. To breathe. And there are things going on. Things I can’t talk about. Don’t bother calling. I’m turning off my phone. I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry so much.

Love you, bro.

River

My hand shakes and it takes me a while to get through it. And then I read it again. Ignoring his request, I call him.

He can’t do this.

Maybe it’s a prank. It wouldn’t be out of character. But his phone goes right to voicemail. “River. Call me. Please.”

I fold the note and stick it in my pocket. Now, what about the angry guy in my kitchen? He’s not going to like this.

I square my shoulders. I’ve handled harder things. Going through open-heart surgery at nine. Then, at seventeen, explaining that Mom and Dad weren’t ever coming home to my fifteen-year-old brother. Both of those were harder than this.

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