Forget Me Not by Stacey Nash Read Free Book Online Page A

voices from the kitchen still reach us. Will sighs and leans back against the wall. “The room Jax pointed out earlier—Beau’s office—I bet it has a phone.”
     
     

     

Chapter Four
     
     
    Jax shadowed us all evening, so I didn’t get to tell Will it would be best if I search Beau’s office alone. No one questioned me when I said I was going to bed. They must have assumed I was exhausted. But really I wasn’t tired at all. I needed time alone, to pull my thoughts together and come up with a solid plan.
    Now, I gaze outside from my seat in the window with my legs tucked up beneath me, clutching a pink flowered cushion to my chest. It’s been hours since Will and I sat out the front, so surely everyone must be asleep by now. As if to confirm my thoughts, the deep rumble of someone snoring echoes down the hall.
    An owl hoots in the distance, and though the sound is muffled by the glass, it startles me back to the present. It’s got to be safe to make a move. I turn over my wrist and look at the leather-banded, silver-faced watch.
    Midnight.
    I ease the door open just a crack, desperate not to make a sound, then a crack more. I poke my head out and peer into the hall. The door across from mine sits ajar, but the room’s too dark to see inside.
    The dim light from my lamp casts a narrow beam into the hall, lighting up the shadow of a person slouched on the floor of the hallway facing my door, back propped against the wall. I creep a little closer. Better make sure it’s safe. His leather jacket hangs open over his pants and white fitted T-shirt. His head lolls back against the wall, and his long, dark eyelashes brush his cheeks. Jax.
    I hold my breath so I’m silent. The dog, Ace, has curled up beside him, and Jax’s hand rests on the dog’s side. Ace opens a chocolaty, shining eye and watches me. Don’t move. Don’t bark. Don’t give me away.
    Without the blank expression, Jax’s face is totally relaxed. He’s actually really good looking —shame he’s not nicer. I raise myself onto my toes and sneak past him, down the hall. He doesn’t stir, but the dog raises his head and watches my every move.
    “Shh, good boy,” I breathe and tiptoe down the stairs and into the first floor hallway. That was pretty close. Light seeps out of the kitchen, throwing a dim trail down the long hall and onto the large oak door I make my way toward. Huh, I managed to find my way back here. Impressive. This has to be the right room because Jax pointed in its general direction earlier and said something about an office.
    Holding my breath with the hope no one’s inside, I reach toward the knob and twist. An attempted swallow scratches my throat. My mouth is dry, all the moisture sucked away. The hallway’s dull light seeps into the room from the open door, illuminating a heavy timber desk with solid carved legs which dominates the room. The shadows of potted plants skulk around the room’s edges. A small lamp on the table is like a beacon, calling to me. When I flick it on, a soft yellow glow fills the room, glinting off the paintings on the walls. Piles of paper heaped like mountains cover the desk, and amongst them sits an ancient black phone.
    A sigh of relief squeezes my thick throat.
    Everything in this place is so old, but it’s still a phone. I’ve seen this type in museums and old movies watched with Will on Saturday nights. It’s black with a round dial on the front and a hand piece balancing across the top. I pick up the hand piece and jam my index finger in the hole marked nine. I know to use it you have to put your finger in the small round hole at the number and pull it around.
    One by one I drag the dial until it won’t go any further, dialing Dad’s number; then I hold the black hand piece to my ear and wait. Nothing. No sound. The line’s dead. Great, the stupid old thing doesn’t even work. The phone must just be a collector’s item. I jam the earpiece down, cringing at the loud noise, and