Holly opens the door holding a fleece robe tightly around her waist, her eyes wide. Until she sees me, and then they narrow sharply.

“What the fuck do you want?” she snarls. If eyes could shoot laser beams, I’d be a pile of ash on her front stoop.

I hold up my hands peacefully when she takes a lunging step toward me. “Wait! Whatever Zoey told you . . . she’s got it all wrong.”

Holly punches my hands as though we’re sparring, combining a right jab and left cross that would make Trey proud. Not listening to me in the slightest, Holly’s still on the warpath.

“Thanks for coming over. It’ll make killing you that much easier. Keep it down, though, because if you wake up my daughter, I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you again.”

The threat should be ridiculous, but with the way Holly’s eyes are flashing, I believe her. “Okay, you can kill me later. But is Zoey here first?”

That’s enough to stop Holly in her tracks and she looks at me in confusion. “No, she left here hours ago. Said she was going home.”

Shaking my head, I inform her, “She’s not there. I just came from there. Work before that. Where else would she go? I’ve got to talk to her.”

My frantic worry breaks through Holly’s anger like nothing else could and she hears what I’m saying. I can’t find Zoey. “Nowhere else. It’s not like she’d go to the beer barn without being forced. Maybe you missed her at home or work?”

The idea that Zoey and I are going around in circles is oddly symbolic. I feel like we’ve been doing that for longer than just tonight. She’s the center of everything, and I’m chasing her, always chasing.

I promise to keep running after her, more than Trey has ever made me run before, until nothing could possibly make Zoey question this thing between us.

“I’ll go back to the morgue and see.”

“Tell her to call me once you find her, or I’ll worry. I want to hear it from her mouth.”

I don’t tell her that I plan to have Zoey’s mouth busy from the instant I see her to the instant she falls asleep in my arms after we make up. I don’t consider the possibility that we don’t make up.

Once I explain, Zoey will understand. She has to.

* * *

The morgue is empty, and instead of my heart racing, it freezes in my chest. I’ve been everywhere. Where could she be? Home, work, home, work. Those are the only places she goes. She said so herself.