When You Start to Miss Me: A Romantic Suspense (Wildflower Romance Book 3)

by Stacy Claflin

  Lincoln traces my jaw with his thumb before moving to my lips. “I really do love you.” He presses his lips on mine, and my heart soars. I swear the ground below disappears.

  I cling to him and kiss him back greedily before pulling away and staring at him breathlessly for a moment. “I love you too. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before in my life.”

  Clapping sounds from all sides.

  My face flames, but I grin.

  “Did you hear that?” Lincoln asks. “This beautiful, amazing woman loves me!”

  “Stop,” I plead. If my face gets any warmer, I’ll catch on fire.

  “Sorry, I can’t help myself.” He gives me another kiss before taking my hand and leading me to the other side of the building.

  “I’m the one who can’t believe you love me.”

  He lifts a brow. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. You’re gorgeous and smart, and you come from a perfect family. Me? I’m messed up twelve ways from Tuesday.”

  “I think you mean six ways from Sunday.”

  “No, I’m far more messed up than that.”

  He plays with a strand of my hair. “You’re mixing yourself up with your family. You are perfectly perfect.”

  I shake my head. “Not even close.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree until I can convince you otherwise.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “I think you’ll find me very persistent.”

  “You’ll have to be.”

  He snickers then wraps his arm around my waist. “We’d better get back to class before we’re late.”

  We head inside, and as we do, my phone vibrates with a text. I pull it out and immediately regret it.

  “Everything okay?” Lincoln asks.

  I frown. “It’s my dad. He’s pissed.” I’m pretty sure that in his short text, he managed to use every explicative in the English language.

  “Let him be. It’s not your responsibility.”

  “Right.”

  On the way back to class, my phone vibrates three more times. Then it continues as we settle into our seats. I end up turning off the vibrate setting so I can focus on the discussion.

  But my father has already managed to steal the joy I had from hearing Lincoln tell me he loves me.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lincoln

  My head pounds as I trudge away from the study group. The number of enlarged egos is too much for me. Or maybe I’m not cut out for the cutthroat business world.

  All I want is to see Malia, to hold her and get lost in her eyes. But she has a study group too, and she said it would probably go pretty late. It’s just as well. My stomach has been rumbling for the last twenty minutes, so I may as well stuff myself with whatever the cafeteria cooks have decided will be my dinner.

  I fill my plate, barely paying attention to what I’m putting on it. Then I scan the tables for anyone I know. Two of my roommates are sitting with some guys from the marching band. I fill a cup with juice and head over.

  We all greet each other, but I can’t keep up with the conversation as I shovel food into my mouth. With any luck, eating will get rid of my headache. If not, I’ll have to see if we have any ibuprofen in the bathroom. It tends to go quickly, given how loud my roomies are.

  Someone waves furiously from across the room. I start to look away, but then realize it’s Jaiden, so I wave back.

  He hurries over, grabs a chair from another table, and squeezes in between me and a large drummer. Doesn't touch his food. “Have you heard from Malia?”

  “She has a study group.”

  Jaiden frowns. “She didn’t show up.”

  I drop my fork. “What? How do you know?”

  “Because she and Raven had plans, but Malia didn’t show up for that, either. Raven’s been trying to reach her, and of course she immediately called Samara and me.”

  “Not me?”

  He lifts a brow. “You didn’t answer.”

  I whip out my phone. Sure enough, a slew of missed texts and calls. “I turned off the ringer for my study group. Must’ve accidentally turned off the vibrate too.”

  “Any ideas where she might be?”

  “I can call my parents and ask if they’ve seen her. Maybe she went there to sleep or something. Or to study in peace.”

  “But to miss both her study group and her girl date with Raven?”

  I take a deep breath. “You asked if I had any ideas. Did anyone try her parents?”

  Jaiden shakes his head. “That’d be the last place she’d go. We all know how angry they’re going to be.”

  I look down at my food, which is now unappealing. “We have to find her.”

  “Exactly. After what went down yesterday, we’re all worried.”

  “So am I.” I call her, but it goes straight to voicemail. Then I send her a text and wait.

  Wait some more.

  Then I text my mom, who says she hasn’t seen her since we left in the morning. I tell her to let me know if she hears from her.

  “Nothing?” Jaiden asks.

  I shake my head no, my heart sinking. “Is there something we haven’t thought of? A place she likes to go when stressed out?” I try to think of something, even though he’s a lot more likely to know where Malia would go when upset. “Like the lake?”

  His eyes widen. “She does like the one by her house.”

  I rise and grab my tray. “I’m going to look there. Keep looking in other places she might be.”

  He gets up too. “Swing by her parents’ restaurant and check for her car.”

  “I thought you said the last place she’d go is near them.”

  Jaiden tugs on his hair. “Yeah, but they’re also the king and queen of guilt trips. And new boundaries or not, our girl hates to disappoint anyone.”

  I rub my temples. “I sure hope she didn’t go to them.”

  “You and me both. Text me what you find, either way.”

  “I will. You too.”

  He nods, then we go our separate ways. My heart races with each step. How did I not realize something was wrong? Sure, I’d texted her a few times, but I hadn’t been concerned when she didn’t reply. It wasn’t like I’d said anything dire—just letting her know how much I’ve enjoyed our time together and that I’m here for her no matter what. When she didn’t respond, I assumed she was busy.

  I race through campus and make my way to the apartment, my mind conjuring up all kinds of scenarios. It doesn’t help that her parents have no problem physically harming her. Holden too, from what I’ve gathered. But at least he’s in the hospital. There’s no way he would’ve been released already given what shape he’d been in the day before.

  Several times I text and call her, but she doesn’t respond to anything. My heart feels like it’ll explode with anxiety, and I want to shake myself for not realizing something was wrong earlier. I’d been so focused on catching up with my studies after yesterday, I hadn’t thought anything would be wrong.

  Please, Malia, be okay. Don’t engage with your parents.

  When I get to the apartment building, I race past it to my car and throw my bag inside. This time, I make sure my phone’s ringer is on top volume. I’m not missing a single call or text.

  As I drive through campus, I scan the students walking. She’s not among them. My pulse drums in my ears. I hope I’m not overreacting, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. There’s no other explanation for her ignoring our calls and texts for so long. Surely she would know we’d all worry.

  I speed through town, keeping an eye out for cops. I skid to a stop as I peel into the restaurant’s parking lot. Scan the cars for hers.

  Not there.

  I cut my engine and leave my car next to the building, struggling to breathe. Open a door marked for employees and stick my head in. I see a utility closet and not much else. Conversation and kitchen noises sound down the hall. I follow it and scan the now bustling kitchen for her. Just cooks m
aking meals.

  A burly guy with tattoos up his neck turns to me. “Who are you?”

  “Is Malia here?”

  “Haven’t seen her. Who’s asking?”

  “Her boyfriend.” I race past him into the dining area and stop a waiter. “Have you seen Malia?”

  He shakes his head. “Not in a few days. Her mom’s been looking for her. You can let Malia know when you see her.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I look around, despite nobody seeming to think she’s here. Then I hurry back to my car and race to our neighborhood. Pass my house and look for her car. Not there. Then I go farther and check her parents’ place, not seeing her vehicle.

  A little relief washes through me. She’s not with her parents.

  But I still don’t know where she is.

  I make my way to the lake. It’s going to be harder to find her here—a lot of ground to cover and there’s no real parking lot to speak of. Just a few spots here and there, plus street parking. People in the neighborhood usually walk.

  I drive all the way around, looking for her and her car. There aren’t many people out, and the random stray vehicles I find don’t belong to her. After making my way around, I park and hurry away, not even closing my door.

  “Malia!” I cup my hands around my mouth. “Malia!”

  No response other than a dog barking in the distance.

  I race toward the beach, calling for her and scanning the area. The sun is going down, but there’s plenty of light. Enough to see she isn’t here. Sand fills my shoes as I make my way round in record time. I call for her until my throat feels raw. Then I keep yelling.

  By the time I get back to my car after circling the water, I’m out of breath. No calls or texts from anyone.

  I lean against the car and send her yet another text, this time pleading and begging. After a few minutes, I call Jaiden.

  “Anything?” he answers.

  “No. You?”

  “Nothing. Raven and Samara went to the hospital to check Holden’s room. He was moved because he woke up, but Malia wasn’t there.”

  I swear. “Where is she? I’ve checked the restaurant, her house, my house, and every inch of this beach.”

  “Have you been trying to get ahold of her since we talked?”

  “Of course,” I snap.

  “She’s not responding to any of us either.”

  “What are we going to do?” I pace and kick my tire. There really is nothing I hate more than feeling helpless.

  It brings me back to the days of losing people I love.

  What if I have to face that again?

  I can’t.

  It’ll kill me. It really will.

  “You there?” Jaiden’s voice pulls me from the depths of my thoughts.

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe we should file a missing person report.”

  My mind spins. “Can we do that? I just saw her this morning.”

  “I don’t care how long it’s been. I’m calling. The worst they can do is tell me no.”

  “Okay. Good thinking.” I struggle to think of anywhere we might’ve missed. Then it hits me. “I’m going to find out where that social worker took Belen.”

  “You do that. I’m going to file that report with the police.” Jaiden ends the call.

  I text Malia between each call I make trying to figure out where Belen is. I have to pretend to be Holden to get anyone to tell me anything. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

  But it gets me what I need. I’ve paced two blocks from my car by the time I get the address.

  Just as I start the car, my phone blares out the tone indicating a text.

  My heart leaps into my throat.

  Then I feel like an idiot. It’s probably Jaiden. It wouldn’t be Malia, not when we’ve been trying so desperately to reach her.

  The phone repeats the alert.

  My stomach lurches. I reach for my device and can hardly breathe as I check the message.

  It’s from her.

  My body goes limp, and I nearly drop the phone. The screen only shows part of her message. I fumble to unlock it, my thumbs shaking too bad to give it good print. Finally, I get it. The text opens.

  I can hardly believe what I see. The words are like a slap to the face. They take the breath from my lungs.

  Malia: Now isn’t a good time. I’ve realized a few things. The big one being that everyone would be better off without me. I’m sorry.

  This time, I do drop the phone. I have to open the door and kneel to fish around under the seat to find it.

  She can’t be serious. How could she go from so happy this morning to feeling like everyone would be better off without her? I told her I love her. Doesn’t that mean anything?

  I struggle to tap out a message to her, but finally manage.

  Lincoln: Not true!! I love u. LOVE. U. Where ru?

  Malia: It’s better we part now than later, when it will REALLY hurt. I’m trying to protect you.

  I come to my senses and call her.

  She doesn’t answer.

  Time for another text.

  Lincoln: I can’t lose u! Tell me where u r.

  Malia: I’m sorry.

  Lincoln: Don’t do this to me!!

  Malia: When you start to miss me, smile. Know that you made my life better for a moment. You made me happy when nobody else could. But it can’t last. I wish it could.

  Lincoln: Yes it can! Where ru??

  Malia: Goodbye. Thx 4 everything. Love u2.

  Lincoln: This isn’t goodbye! I’m going to find u!

  No response. Not even a read receipt.

  Lincoln: Malia! What’s going on??

  It can’t be what it sounds like. There’s no way she’d try to end everything.

  My mind flashes a flurry of scenes—hospitals, funerals. Mind-numbing pain.

  I crumble onto the concrete, pain radiating out from my chest.

  Someone screams.

  It’s me.

  I take a few deep breaths and return to the texting conversation. Tap out another message.

  Lincoln: Dont do this 2 me. I wont survive.

  And I won’t.

  She doesn’t respond.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Malia

  My dad blocks the front door, not allowing me to leave. He crosses his arms and glowers at me, his nostrils flaring. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I have to study! You’ve already made me miss my study group.”

  “You think we’re letting you go anywhere?”

  My heart pounds so hard, I swear my parents can hear it. “My friends already know they can’t reach me! How long before someone reports me as missing? Where’s the first place they’ll look?”

  Dad snorts. “Your friends? Or the police? Don’t forget, the captain was my college roommate, Malia. I get away with what I want around here. Why do you think we moved here?”

  My breathing grows shallow. “You don’t get away with everything! You and Mom got arrested yesterday.”

  He steps closer, his brows furrowing. “Prove it. Our records are clean.”

  I take a step back. Look around. Mom’s blocking the entrance to the hall. I’m stuck. “What do you want from me?”

  “You need to renege on your claims that Belen is better off at the nuthouse.”

  “It isn’t a nuthouse! It’s a care facility for people with special needs.”

  Mom appears from behind and slaps me across the face. “Don’t talk back to your father.”

  I grasp my cheek and turn to her. “Why do you care? Wouldn’t you rather be with your lover?”

  She strikes my other cheek then spits on me. “Shut up!”

  I turn back to Dad, fighting tears. “Just let me leave. You hate me, so why bother holding me against my will?”

  He presses himself against the door. “Who’s holding you against your will? You’re free to go whenever you want.”

  I move toward him.

  He balls his
fists. His expression dares me to take another step. We both know he can—and already has—gotten away with hitting me. He can probably get away with even more if he really wants to.

  “Get Belen back,” Mom says.

  “I can’t! You two are his parents.”

  “We can’t do anything until you take back your statement.”

  I glare at her. “Why do you care? All you ever do is complain about him! I’m the only one in this house who can calm him down once he gets riled up. With all three of us out of your hair, you two can live the lives you want! You can have your lover.” I turn to Dad. “And you can have yours! Neither of you will have to worry about anyone else. All of your problems are solved!”

  Dad grabs my shirt near my collar, making me choke. “Do you know how it looks to have my son taken from me?”

  I push his fist, but he tightens his grip, not allowing me to speak.

  Mom shoves me against the wall. She screams, spittle flying in my face.

  Dad grabs my shirt again. Lifts me so I’m dangling.

  I have to cling to his arm to gasp in air. He rams me against a closet door, jamming the knob into my side. He shouts about Holden in the hospital, where it’ll be next to impossible to get rid of the records. Says nearly the same thing about Belen’s mental health facility.

  It’s all about them and their appearances. Just like always. Nothing will ever change.

  He releases his hold, and I crumble to the ground.

  Mom yanks me up by my hair, twisting my neck in an uncomfortable angle. “All of this is your fault! If you’d have watched Holden like you’re supposed to, he never would’ve wound up in the hospital.”

  Dad grabs me by my shoulders, squeezing hard. Pain radiates out from his fingernails digging into my skin. “You’re useless! You never should’ve been born. Everything would’ve been better without you!”

  A lump forms in my throat. Tears threaten.

  Somehow, he manages to squeeze harder.

  I cry out in pain.

  “Shut up! Do something good for a change—get Belen out of the nuthouse! You’re breaking your mother’s heart and ruining both of our reputations.”