Page 6 of What Remains

“I needed a pilot,” Zoey adds, eyes lingering on Gwen.

“You should take Nash with you instead.” Gwen doesn’t ask, she tells, which is typical of her.

This is one of those times I have to tell her no, though. “It’s just best if I do this.”

“Is your wife here?” Zoey breaks through the awkwardness, and Wyatt nods his answer. “I’d like to say hello before we head out.”

“I’ll take you to her,” Carter offers, then shifts to Gwen. “Meet us in the conference room on floor seven when you’re done here.” He heads inside with Zoey after that, and of course, Wyatt stays out here with us.

Gwen slips off my jacket because this really is goodbye. “What’s your cover story?” The slight tremble in her tone betrays her.

Just worried about me, more than likely. Still, my pulse lurches as my thumb brushes my ring finger when I announce, “Undercover as husband and wife.”

CHAPTER 2

Gwen

ELEVEN DAYS LATER

After bouncing around the hotel, unable to find anywhere that feels like the right spot to work, I give up trying to be semi-social and head to my suite. I’m armed with my travel rig and a fresh cup of coffee.

My main box is dark, humming on my desk, practically calling out to me. That PC never leaves the hotel or this room. It’s essentially my brain, holding my master programs and running my deepest systems. It’s also where my development magic happens. I just haven’t felt all that, well, inspired lately to be creative.

I set down my coffee and my matte-black rig—better known as a laptop to my non-techy peeps—and take a seat. I flip open the lid to get back to work, combing the world for the man who walked (more like ran) away from me.

No sign of Easton in my search yet, and I can’t decide whether that’s a good or bad thing I can’t find him.

Frustrated, confused, and all the things, I lean back in my chair, grab my mobile from my back pocket, and open my music app. I hit shuffle on my playlist and freeze when the first song starts.

Easton added this one in the summer. He liked to school me on classics he insisted I needed to know. “Right Here Waiting” by Richard Marx happens to be one of those songs, and listening to the lyrics now? Just kill me. I want to slam my head against my desk and cry.

To make matters worse, the mug I’m drinking from while using my facial recognition program to search for him is his. He’s had this U-M cup since attending school at Michigan. A solid blue mug with GO BLUE printed in gold across the side. I borrowed it when he lived here, and since he never asked for it back when he was packing, I kept it.

“Whatchaaa doing?” Elaina pops her head over my shoulder, and I jump so hard I nearly spill my coffee.

A curse slips out as I set down my cup and fumble to shut off the music. “You scared the bloody hell out of me.” I stand, whirl around, and teasingly glare at her.

“You did give me the code and a key to your room.” She smirks. “Also, I love how British you get when I sneak up on you.” She casually opens a pack of Oreos, then leans in, obviously trying to read my screen.

I snap the lid shut and face her. “Aren’t I always British?” I deflect, stealing an Oreo.

Elaina drags a rolling chair over and makes herself at home. “Ameri-British?” she says, like it’s still up for debate. “You’ve started adopting some of the slang. Sweater, not jumper. Pants, not trousers.”

She’s getting a kick out of this, I can tell.

“I still can’t get you to say cell phone, though.” She rolls her eyes skyward in exaggerated disgust. “Mobile. Sounds so proper.”

Elaina’s one of Dad’s teammates’ daughters. Liam and his wife, Emily, decided to spend the holidays here at the hotel with my family. I was stubborn and wouldn’t head to the States for Christmas, so Dad brought Christmas to me, including one of my favorite people: Elaina. If only Easton had popped out of a package on Christmas morning yesterday . . . that’d have been quite the surprise.

I twist the top of my Oreo as I sit, and she guesses, “Left side.” It’s a thing she used to do with Liam when she was younger, guessing which side the frosting will end up on when the halves are split.

“Right side.” I lick the frosting clean from the one half.

“Sooo, what were you doing before I snuck up on you?” she asks around a mouthful of Oreo.

“Just work stuff.” I finish both halves, then toy with the trident charm on my bracelet. Dad gifted it to me, and I rarely take it off. Not just because I love it, but because it doubles as a tracker, something I was in the dark about until he used it to find me.

She nudges me in the side. “Sure you weren’t looking for him?”