Dusk Snow Hides All Return (Rowan and Adrienne) novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18.

The figure by the fountain seemed to be startled and slowly turned around.

It was a completely unfamiliar Asian face, his eyes wide with confusion.

It was not him.

Adrienne jerked to a stop, stumbled, and almost hit the ground.

Her furiously beating heart felt as if it had been violently grabbed and instantly hollowed out by an invisible hand. All that was left was a cold, hollow space with wind whistling through it.

Hope flared, only to be instantly shattered.

That freefall from heaven straight into hell almost broke her.

The guy saw the crazed, half–dead look on her face and hurried off.

Adrienne just stood there. Snowflakes landed on her rigid shoulders. She couldn’t feel the cold. Couldn’t feel the weird stares from people walking past.

She couldn’t find him.

She’d really, actually lost him.

That realization poured into every corner of her body along with the brutal wind of Montreal’s deep winter, freezing her blood and locking up her breath.

some

That night, Adrienne walked into nondescript dive bar, ordered the strongest whiskey they had, and started pounding glass after glass.

The alcohol burned her throat, but it did nothing to warm her cold and desperate heart.

Her vision started to blur. And all the memories she’d deliberately shoved away or never really bothered with in the first place–came back in crystal–clear HD.

She remembered his carefully worded texts: “Adrienne, are you coming home for dinner tonight? I made the soup you like,” and her cold reply: “Busy.”

She recalled him quietly learning to cook the dishes she loved, getting blisters on his hands, and presenting the plate to her like a trophy, only for her to take one bite, frown, say, “Too salty,” and put down her chopsticks, never touching it again.

She remembered him being locked in the Storage Room, pounding on the door and crying out, while she stood on the other side,

Γ watching coldly.

Him beaten into a curled–up ball on the ground. Her up on the steps, giving the order to throw cash at his attackers. Him taking the fall for the man she loved. Fier personally handing him over to the police.

Adrienne slumped down over the cold bar top and started laughing, her voice low and hoarse. The sound came out wrecked. Tears poured out of her without permission, mixing with the whiskey, a complete disaster.

“What did I… what did I do to him…” She mumbled it to herself. Her voice was in pieces.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and kept buzzing for a long time before Adrienne finally fumbled it out, only to see it was her

assistant.

She answered, voice slurred. “Talk.”

“Ms. Merritt!” Her assistant’s voice was barely containing the excitement. “We got something! We tracked down Mr. Ashford’s Social Insurance Number! He’s got records in Montreal!”

12:32

Chapter 13

Claim 10 Coins By Check in

Herscrambled brain lit up like someone had stuck a syringe of adrenaline straight into her chest. She shot upright. Half the alcohol burned off in an instant.

“Give me everything!“-

“He worked a part–time job at a Chinese grocery store in Old Montreal. Three days. But that was two weeks ago. The grocery store owner said he quit after three days. Said his body couldn’t take it. But here’s the thing–when Mr. Asliford quit, he asked the owner about any good French language programs in the area. Said he wanted to learn French so he could find steady work. We ran with it. Found out he signed up at Alliance Française. Paid the first semester in full. Classes… start next week!”

Next week!

Adrienne shot to her feet so fast that her vision blacked out for a second, but she tightly grabbed the edge of the bar to hold herself steady

“The address! Send me the address of the school! Right now! Now!”

“On it! Sending it to your phone!”

She hung up and stared at the street name on her screen. That string of unfamiliar French syllables felt like the most beautiful song she’d ever heard.

She swiped at her face, threw

a

pills on the bar, and bolted out into the night.

Wind and snowflakes slammed into her face. She couldn’t feel the cold. Something was on fire in her chest.

Rowan, this time, I’m going

to find you.

Wait for me.

Montreal’s winter hit hard and fast.

Adrienne had been standing outside Alliance Française for an hour.

Five o’clock sharp. The doors opened.

Her heart jumped straight into her throat. Her eyes tore through the crowd, desperate.

And then she saw him.

Rowan was at the back of the group. He was wearing the simplest black down jacket, a gray old scarf wrapped around his neck, the color of the wool making his face look even paler. He’d lost so much weight His chin had gone sharp. His head was tipped down slightly, and he was saying something in low French to a blonde classmate beside him. Then he gave her a small, faint smile. That smile, like an extremely fine needle, pierced unexpectedly straight into Adrienne’s heart. The pain of it took the air right out of her lungs.

Five years ago, he used to smile at her like that too, timid and filled with a careful kind of joy.

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