Jesus. Edge flashed a phony smile. A surprise farewell party. Just what he didn’t need.

He glanced around, saw that everyone he knew was there. Besides Trace and Conn, Morgan Burke and a couple of part-timers were there; Zoey Rosen and her boyfriend, Chad; Kade and his wife, Ellie; and Gage’s wife, Abby. Callie and her mom were there; Lila and her husband, Raul—a story he had heard from Trace over the phone.

He had to admit it made him feel good to know he had so many friends who cared about him. He glanced at Gage. “You knew about this?”

“I was sent to make sure you got here.”

Edge looked around the crowded room. “Where’s Skye?”

Gage followed his gaze and frowned. “She was supposed to be here.” He made another survey of the room. “I don’t see her.”

Edge turned to Conn. “Where’s your sister?”

“I don’t know. She said she was coming.”

Standing behind him, Trace tapped him on the shoulder. “You talked to her, right? You called her when you got to town?”

“No. I should have. I had things I wanted to say. I just wanted to get it right. But—” He pulled out his cell and hit her number. It rang straight through to voice mail. “She’s not picking up.”

“You screwed up, dude,” Trace said. “She knew you were in town. I figured you’d call. You owed her that much.”

Edge’s chest clamped down. He raked a hand through his thick black hair. “Dammit.” The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Skye. He gave the room a final glance, and his stomach balled into a fist. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to find her. Call my cell if she shows up.”

“Will do,” Trace said. “Good luck.”

Edge hustled out of the backroom, down the hall, and out the front door. He had no real idea where to look. He’d start with her apartment, but she could be anywhere. What was she thinking right now? That he didn’t even care enough to call her when he got back to the city?

His heart hurt. He knew how he would feel if Skye had done that to him.

The Goat was a neighborhood bar only a few blocks from the office, which was only a few blocks from Skye’s apartment. He tried her cell again, got voice mail, started jogging, then broke into a run. What if something had happened?

Or maybe she’d decided he wasn’t worth the trouble and was out with someone else.

He burst into the lobby of her apartment building, waved to the guard, who knew him by now, hurried into the elevator, and hit the button for the eighth floor.

Please be home, he thought. Please forgive me for screwing up. Please love me.