by Zoe Dawson
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For a moment Owen stood there and watched her drive off. He jabbed his hands through his hair, clutching it in frustration and pacing in circles. He willed himself to stay calm, but found it more of a struggle than it had ever been in his life. Sick with worry, literally nauseated, he fought to rein in the panic.
“She just needs some time alone. I’m Brooke Palmer and this is Harper Sinclair. You’ve met Poe.”
He nodded to them. “I’ve seen Harper around. Nice to meet you, finally.”
“Sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
“So am I. Do you know where she might have gone?” They shook their heads and his shoulders slumped. “If you hear from her, would you give her my cell phone number, please?” and he rattled it off. They all nodded. He didn’t even bother to go back to the club. He just headed up to his loft.
His heart heavy, he opened the door and was greeted by an exuberant Jill. He brightened a little. She still lived next door. She would have to talk to him sooner or later.
