Julia Monroe Begins Again by Rebekah Millet

Julia Monroe Begins Again by Rebekah Millet

Author:Rebekah Millet
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance;Widows—­Fiction;New Orleans (La.)—­Fiction;Romance fiction;Novels;FIC042040;FIC027020;FIC027000
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2023-08-29T00:00:00+00:00


22

CONNER’S PULSING DOT HAD NOT BEEN in his dorm room all night long. I knew this because I’d been up at all hours monitoring it. He’d been at a new location I’d never tracked him to.

Zooming in on satellite images, I’d learned it was an apartment complex about thirty miles from campus in a run-down area. Using the street view via an online map, I’d found the name of the place: Shady Lane Apartments.

Not comforting.

The façade hadn’t helped with giving me warm fuzzies either. The dwelling needed major TLC—or a wrecking ball. The exterior had missing siding and graffiti. Dirt covered a narrow stretch of lawn where a garden and grass should’ve been. Tipped-over garbage cans were the crowning beauty, with trash and red Solo cups littering the ground.

I rubbed my forehead, a headache having long taken root last night as each hour had ticked by. This was the first night that he hadn’t spent in his dorm. Mustering all of my restraint, I’d waited until seven thirty this morning to call and text Conner. I’d reasoned he had a class at eight he never missed, and I was helping him keep that perfect attendance streak. But my attempts to reach him had gone unanswered. Not wanting to draw suspicion that I was invading his privacy, my text had been vague: Call me when you can.

Next, I’d dialed Mason to see if he knew anything about Conner’s whereabouts. I had ended up in his voice mail too. Not surprising. His blinking dot had showed him already in his first class, which meant he’d probably had his phone off, studying before the exam he had this morning.

It was now nine. My attention, unfocused and hazy, latched on to the work pants I’d laid on my bed. I needed to go. I was already running late for my first client. And yet, I couldn’t make myself pull those bottoms on. Couldn’t leave the house. Conner’s pinpoint still pulsed in that questionable apartment. Or in the apartment’s dumpster. Stop! Don’t stumble down that rabbit hole.

Ugh! Just wait until Conner had kids. That’s when he’d find out how horrific parenting was. Especially teenagers. I’d been so stressed at the prospect of raising babies. But those were the easy years, when they couldn’t get away from you. You knew where they were every second of the day. You knew if they were eating and pooping right. You could pick who they played with.

Having teens out on their own was a whole other heaping of ulcers. Having teens living several states away was a cardiac arrest waiting to happen.

A knock sounded at the front door, and Chewie rushed to it, barking, setting my nerves further on edge. Glancing out the window, I spied Mama’s Buick in my driveway. I opened the door.

“You’re still home.” Her keys dangled from her hands.

My molars ground together. Would she ever greet me properly? “Please tell me you’re not spying on my house again.”

“No. I was on my way to the grocery and saw your car’s still here.



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