Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,18

was . . . indiscriminate. It’s not fair to pin the blame on her when we don’t know what Nick told her.”

She waggled her head from side to the side. “Fine. Ultimately, it was Nick who cheated—”

“Wait. Pause.” Walker held up a hand, eyes closed. “Zora. You had contact with Nick after he left? What do you mean, he cheated?”

Leigh reached into the back pocket of her jeans, producing a leopard-printed hair clip. “Pay attention,” she told Walker, winding her hair into knot at the base of her skull. “Houdini disappears one night and leaves behind a letter telling Zora he’s sorry, but he has to go. Says he has to get himself together, is leaving for her own good, and he’ll fix things when he gets back.” She turned to me. “That about right?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“And I know all this already.” Walker crossed his arms over his chest.

“So, your sister transfers to Northwestern. Has the good fortune to meet me.” She tapped her chest with one of her long polished black nails. “Likes the school, loves the program, but won’t go out and play because she’s still pining after this guy that just disappeared into the ether. So, I told her we could for sure find him with an in-depth internet search.”

Walker’s gaze bounced between us. “And you did.”

“Yep. My cousin is a librarian. She can sniff out anyone’s footprint online.”

I picked up the story, seeing the events play in my mind’s eye. “It took some doing, but we found a lead. The school paper at University of Michigan was online. There was an article about Nick, something about an engineering contest he won.”

“It came with a cash prize,” Leigh inserted. “I can’t remember how much, but it was a significant amount. Certainly enough for him to afford a phone call back home to let your family know how he was doing, or even a plane ticket.”

“And in the article, they mentioned that he worked at a coffee shop near campus. So, Leigh called the coffee shop and found out what hours he worked.”

“And then I shoved Zora in my car and we drove the five hours to Ann Arbor so she could finally see this clown and demand some answers.” Leigh grimaced and scratched at the back of her head. “We never spoke to him, but we got an answer.”

Even now, all these years later, the memory smarted. Nick, somehow even bigger and even more handsome after just two years. Healthy and whole. He’d worn an apron printed with the coffee shop’s logo that emphasized his substantial frame.

He also wore a redhead.

I remembered every single moment of the disastrous afternoon. The shop had emptied of the afternoon crowd. Leigh and I had just made our way over a snowbank and onto the sidewalk. I’d shivered with nerves. Would he want to see me again? Would our connection still exist, or feel the same as before? Would he have a reasonable excuse for breaking my heart by not calling after all this time? Would he finally end the mystery of why he left and just tell me what happened, for God’s sake?

Then Leigh’s hand had captured my wrist, squeezing hard. I’d stopped beside her, my gaze following the direction of her nod. From our angle, we could see inside into the interior of the shop, past the front counter and into the front opening of the kitchen.

Nick lounged against a wall, a tiny red-headed woman plastered against his front. He didn’t step away when she reached up and gathered a handful of his shirt. He didn’t protest when she pulled him down until the difference in their heights disappeared, leaving his face mere inches from hers.

Leigh’s grip on my wrist tightened even more as we both stood, statues on the sidewalk. Waiting.

For the rest of my life, I would forever remember how the bitter chill of winter snatched my breath, turning it to transparent wisps of clouds. How the frigid bite of snow underfoot numbed my feet through the soles of my impractical fashion boots. I would never forget how both Leigh and I gasped when the redhead closed the distance between their mouths.

I’d been waiting for him, for any word from him. I’d put my life on hold, like a dumbass.

Leigh related the story to Walker while I stood clutching my glass of water in a death grip, frozen by the remembered horror. “She cried half the way home.”

Walker’s eyes grew hooded. His mouth tightened as he flicked