Holiday Homecoming Secrets. Lynette Eason

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      Bryce rang the bell again and hunched into his heavy coat. He needed to keep his mouth shut. Since when did he just blurt out personal stuff?

      But this was Jade. Beautiful, loving, unforgettable Jade. Someone he’d thought about daily since he’d left her on the porch steps of her dormitory her senior year six years ago, but he knew he didn’t deserve her—because she’d deserved better than him even back then. And he’d had his own dreams to follow.

      So he’d left. But he’d gone with the plan to make it up to her, to stay in touch and see if they could make a long-distance relationship work—if she was even interested. Not long after that, the explosion had ripped apart more than pieces of his body. For a while, it seemed like it had shredded his soul, too.

      “Bryce?”

      He blinked and shook off the thoughts. “He’s not answering.”

      “I know. That’s what I said three times.” She frowned. “Are you okay?”

      “No, not really.” He walked to the nearest window, wiped the snow off, and tried to peer through the blinds. Impossible.

      “I’m going in,” Jade said.

      “How?”

      “With the key he keeps under the fake turtle.” She moved the piece of decoration from the mulch and snagged the key.

      “He never told me about that, either,” Bryce murmured.

      “You weren’t here, Bryce. Why would he tell you that?”

      He flinched.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice more gentle. “I’m not trying to rub it in that you weren’t here. It’s just that...”

      “I wasn’t here. It’s truth. You’re not rubbing it in. Forget it. Let’s just find Frank.”

      She nodded, opened the door, and stepped over the threshold, wiping her feet on the mat. “Frank? You here?”

      Bryce followed. “Hey Frank, where are you, buddy?”

      Silence echoed back at them. Together, they walked through the house. “It’s neat,” she said, and sniffed. “He just cleaned not too long ago. Probably yesterday.”

      “He does love that pine scent his grandmother always used.”

      “She gave him a case of it when he moved in two years ago,” she said. “I doubt even with his routine cleaning, he’s used it all up yet.”

      “Two years. I missed a lot during my self-imposed exile, didn’t I?”

      She shot him a tight smile and moved to Frank’s desk in the corner of his den. Bryce slipped up beside her to look over her shoulder. That familiar light strawberry-and-vanilla scent he associated with her filled his senses. He stepped back, and she wiggled the mouse on Frank’s laptop. “Any idea what his password would be?”

      “Heather?”

      She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a guess.”

      She typed it in. “Nope.”

      Bryce spotted a piece of paper sticking out of the top drawer and pulled on it.

      “What is it?” she asked.

      “A name. Tony Swift.”

      “I know him,” Jade said. “He owns the shooting range where a bunch of cops practice when they don’t want to use the one at the station.”

      “Maybe he was meeting someone there.”

      “Maybe.” They continued the search and made it full circle back to the front door with no other information they could deem useful in the search for their friend, but Bryce was hopeful Tony Swift could answer a few questions.

      “The place is spotless as always. Doesn’t look like there’s anything to be worried about,” Bryce said.

      “Other than the fact that it’s the middle of the night, his car is here, but he’s not home or answering his phone.”

      “He could be asleep in a hotel with his phone turned off.”

      “Why?”

      “I have no idea. You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. I was just hoping...” He paused. “Let me check his closet. Maybe he had a last-minute trip and he just didn’t bother telling anyone.” He didn’t believe that, but...

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