Tiffany tried to forestall an inevitable feeling of dread. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Oh—” She snapped her fingers. “Did you ask J.D. where Stephen went?”

“He’s not here, either.”

“Isn’t he? Funny, I thought I heard his Jeep earlier. Oh, well.” They chatted for a few minutes more, then said goodnight. Tiffany, lost in thought and worry, walked up the steps and was rounding the corner to the backyard when she caught sight of Luke Gates locking the door to his upper-story unit of the carriage house.

He offered her a slight smile. “Evenin’.”

“Hi, Luke,” she said and then asked, “Have you seen Stephen anywhere?”

Luke gave a curt nod. “Earlier. With J.D. and that scruffy-lookin’ friend of his.”

“Miles?” What did J.D. have to do with it? Worry set her teeth on edge.

“Don’t know his name.” Luke flashed her a crooked smile. “I just caught a glimpse of them earlier, then heard a truck or some kind of rig pull out. Thought it was probably XJ.D.’s Jeep.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

As Luke climbed into his old truck, Tiffany headed back to the house. What was going on? She felt a dread, as cold as a north wind, cut through her soul as she walked up the stairs, checked on a sleeping Christina, then made her way to Stephen’s room.

It was cleaner than usual, thanks to his efforts during the period when he’d been grounded, but she found no hint in the scattered CDs and magazines as to where he’d gone. He’s probably with J.D. He’ll be all right, Tiffany tried to convince herself as she ran her finger over the top shelf of his bookcase and noticed the little car he’d fashioned from wood and entered a race with years ago when Philip had been alive. But Miles Dean is involved and that spells trouble. Trouble with a capital T.

Having found no clues to Stephen’s whereabouts, she left his room and hesitated in the hallway. The door to the third floor had been left open, was slightly ajar. Beckoning. Though she felt a sense of guilt for invading J.D.’s privacy, she mounted the stairs to the loft tucked under the eaves. She took one step into his room, turned on the lights and tensed when she saw his duffel bag, fully packed, standing ready near the door. He was leaving. Just like that. After they’d made love.

Though she’d known it would happen, had tried to prepare herself, a part of her withered in pain. Why had she expected anything different? He was just a man, and like most of the men in her life, he was leaving her.

Don’t dwell on it. Buck up.