Page 35 of The Love Audit
“Anyway,” she continued, “enough about me and my drama. How is your little project going?”
I sighed, already knowing where this was headed. “It’s not a little project, Mom. I’m working on an extremely important presentation that could make or break my career.”
“A career in public relations.” Her tone carried the same weight as if I’d told her I was training to be a mime. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she added, not sounding sorry at all, “but this all just seems like a colossal waste of your time and potential.”
“What?” I scoffed. “What would you have me do, Mother? What would you consider a more suitable use of my time?”
“There’s no need to get testy,” she replied, her tone as patronizing as ever. “But since you asked, you could take this time to recharge and reassess. You could move back in with me and Daddy.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t get stuck.
“You could go back to school. I still have some connections in the modeling world. You could get an agent, do some traveling…”
“Modeling?” I screeched, earning a curious glance from a nearby squirrel. “I’m thirty years old!”
“And still beautiful,” she countered without missing a beat.
“Seriously?”
“I just don’t understand why you’re chasing this opportunity that may amount to nothing but a waste of your time. And working with Derek Carter, of all people.”
My heart stopped. For the last thirteen years, my mother would rather chew off her own arm than mention the Carter family.
“What is wrong with me working with Derek Carter?” I asked, my voice sharper than I’d intended.
“Jasmine, you’re an adult. Your choices are your own, but I’m not comfortable with it.”
“Why not?” I pressed, desperate for answers. “What happened between our families? Why won’t you ever talk about it?”
“I’m not interested in dredging up the past,” she began, but her voice faded into white noise as my eyes scanned the park. My stomach dropped. I couldn’t see Tora.
“Mom, I have to go.” My voice trembled.
“Jasmine, listen, I just—”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I love you. I’ll call you later.” I ended the call without waiting for her response and bolted from the bench, shouting Tora’s name at the top of my lungs.
Panic clawed at my chest as I searched every inch of the park, my voice growing hoarse from yelling. Just as I was about to giveup hope, the sky opened up, and fat drops of rain began to fall, drenching me in seconds.
“Tora!” I screamed, my voice breaking. But the only response was the sound of rain pelting the ground. My heart sank as the realization hit me: Tora was gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Derek
I woke up to the sound of thick pellets of rain battering the windows in the living room, the kind of rain that made you question every life choice that didn’t involve staying in bed. My brain, still foggy from sleep, registered the storm’s relentless drumming before it caught up with my body, which was already staging a protest. I didn’t want to move—not even an inch—because I could feel the stiffness creeping up the base of my spine. It was that kind of creeping, insidious ache that told me attempting to move, which was inevitable, would be the equivalent of setting off a small explosion in my back.
Eventually, though, I couldn’t ignore reality any longer. My bladder had opinions, and none of them included staying in bed. Groaning like a ninety-year-old with a vendetta against mornings, I peeled myself out of bed, every joint in my body protesting the movement. Bracing myself against the dull pain, I stretched my arms high above my head and twisted gently at the waist,trying to coax my stubborn muscles into something resembling functionality. It worked… barely.
Once I’d gained enough mobility to shuffle across the room, I glanced around and noticed something odd: the living room was too quiet. Suspiciously quiet. My dog, Tora, and my reluctant roommate, Jasmine, were both conspicuously absent. Again. This wasn’t exactly a shock—Jasmine was an early riser, and she’d taken to walking Tora like it was her personal mission to turn him into the healthiest dog in town, or possibly make him switch allegiances. A plan that could possibly be working, because I found it vaguely annoying that my dog seemed to love her more than me. Okay, maybe not vaguely. He’d bonded with her faster than you could say “treat,” and I was still trying to decide how I felt about that. On one hand, I was thrilled he had another human he trusted. On the other, he wasmydog, damn it.
What bothered me more this morning, though, was the sound of the rain. Not just rain—a torrential, monsoon-level downpour that seemed determined to wash away the entire neighborhood. Combine that with the fact that it was already late enough for even Jasmine to have called it quits, and my unease began to grow. This didn’t make sense.
I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and dialed Jasmine’s number. It went straight to voicemail, and Jasmine’s grown-up, professional, and annoyingly cheerful voice telling me to leave a message did nothing to calm my nerves. Fantastic. Trying not to spiral into a full-blown panic, I tossed on a hoodie, some jeans, and my rain boots, grabbed my umbrella, and decided to go lookingfor them. Because, clearly, I had nothing better to do than play hero in the middle of a storm.
The rain hit me like a wall as soon as I stepped outside. My umbrella was laughably inadequate against the deluge, and within seconds, water was dripping down my face and soaking through my clothes. Tora and I had a usual walking route that led to the library, so I started there, squinting through the downpour and trying not to lose my footing on the slick pavement. The fenced-in area behind the library, one of Tora’s favorite spots, was deserted. The gate swung open and shut in the wind, creaking ominously, but there was no sign of them. My heart grew heavier.
I called out Tora’s name, my voice barely audible over the storm. Nothing. Not even a bark. My heart was starting to pound now, a mix of worry and frustration fueling every step as I made my way along the creek that led to the mill. Maybe they’d gone inside to take shelter from the rain and had gotten stuck. It was the only logical explanation that didn’t involve me spiraling into worst-case scenarios.
