Page 261 of Hate to Love You

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Page 261 of Hate to Love You

I can’t explain why, but I know that I can trust the authenticity in his voice when he says this.

Slowly I feel my hands lift off of him.

“We’re pulling all the security camera footage in the area,” Cal says, checking under the other lawn chairs around Abby’s fire pit. “We will get a hit on a plate, or a face, and we will get her back. But she will murder you herself if she finds out that you lost her cat.”

“I know,” I growl.

Behind us the men flood into the garden.

“Look everywhere!” Cal bellows, waving his hand.

We have to find Abby.

“Lily!” I feel my chest tightening. “Come here, girl.”

We will find Abby.

And that’s when we hear it.

The faintest of meows, coming from the greenhouse.

I look down the path to see Lily the cat, pacing back and forth at the door to Abby’s glass plant warehouse.

“Oh, thank God,” I mutter softly.

But what I see when I pick her up immediately makes my blood run cold.

Because right there, at the door to the greenhouse, is a soft pink…Juliet rose.

“This wasn’t the Irish,” I whisper only so Cal can hear me. “It was Polina.”

Chapter Forty-Two

ABBY

Clang… clang… clang…

The noise is loud, but it isn’t clear. It’s distorted, almost as if I’m underwater. I feel the air ripple around me in the darkness as the clanging gets louder and louder. I flinch when it bangs right next to my head and instinctively my arms tense to cover my ears…but they don’t move.

They can’t move. My chest starts to tighten with the realization.

Oh fuck.

I can’t move. I can’t see.

Fuck I can’t see!

My skin feels clammy, a droplet of sweat running down my back as I inhale as much air as I can. But my lungs tighten, as if a boa constrictor is squeezing, preparing to make a meal out of me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I focus on slowing my breathing, trying to picture Roman walking me through my breaths like he did back in my bedroom.

But the panic and shock of my predicament is making that difficult.

Still, I try to count softly, feeling my lips crack as I mutter the numbers.

With the last of my sanity, I try to focus on what’s around me.

Think Abby! What can you touch, hear and smell?




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