Page 73 of The Sandbar saga

Chapter 28

"Katie?" Race walkedinto the bathroom, looking for her, and found the room empty.

Completely sated at making love to her three times through the night, he pulled on his jeans. He'd expected to wake up beside her. She had to be exhausted. He hardly allowed her to get any sleep.

Walking into the hallway, he found her bedroom door closed. He knocked on the door. "Katie?"

He stayed in the hallway, listening for any movement from inside her room. Knocking again, he turned the handle and called her name again through the opening.

When she refused to answer, he reached in and turned the light on. "You don't have to go into work early, do you?"

He poked his head in and found an empty, made bed. Alarmed, he stepped inside and looked in her bathroom.

It took him a few seconds to realize what he was seeing. Everything was gone. Her brush, her makeup, her clothes.

Yelling her name, he jogged through the house and opened the door to the garage. Her car was gone.

He stood in the doorway. Hollow, weakened, and lost, he tried to imagine where she had gone. His first instinct to find her swatted down by the knowledge that she'd left without telling him where she was going and how long she'd be gone.

She hadn't gone out to hang with the boys like she used to or go to work with all her clothes and belongings. It was too early to show clients around town...

Stumbling backward in shock, he fell against the wall in the hallway, holding himself on his feet. He knew. Deep in his heart, he knew.

The signs were there. The way she'd come to him last night. The look in her eyes.

She'd left him.

Numbly, he went to the kitchen. He poured himself a mug of coffee and then set it on the counter untouched. Where would she go?

She'd left without a word. Stepped out of his house. Out of his life.

On the fridge hung a paper that hadn't been there yesterday. He pulled it to him, the magnet tumbling to the floor.

He recognized the release form, his gaze swiftly going to the bottom of the paper. She'd signed her name, terminating his position as her psychologist.

The fire inside of him to find her dampened by proof that she was done with him.

He leaned against the counter. His chest ached. How could she have left him without telling him after what they'd shared last night?

He put his head on the counter, thumping his forehead over and over again on the surface. The pain, not enough punishment for what he'd put her through. If he could only have her back, he'd tell her that they would figure out a way to make it work between them, even if he had to step away from his practice.

Even if eventually she ended up hating him.

In his pocket, his cell phone rang. He jolted, full of hope, and answered without looking to see who called. "Katie?"

"Uh, no, this is Barbara Froyer." The woman's voice echoed in his ear.

"Yes, Barbara?" He fisted his hand, needing to get off the phone in case Katie called.

"I have to cancel my one o'clock appointment with you. My daughter's school called, and she's sick. I'm on my way to pick her up now and take her to the doctor."

"Yes, yes, that's fine," he said.

"I'll see you next week."

"Yes." He disconnected.

The silence of the house amplified the emptiness inside of him. He walked out of the sliding door and sat in the nearest patio chair. Unable to imagine how he would go on each day without Katie, the desolation overwhelmed him.

He was certified to handle every situation, every heartbreak, every trauma in a person's life. Knowing exactly how he should recover and go on living life had shit to do with how he felt at the moment.

Nothing prepared him for the pain.

He closed his eyes and clutched his chest. A hurt so deep burrowed inside of him, he wasn't sure he'd survive.