"You see, there are no pretty pink flowers in the woods at night."

──────⊱⁜⊰─────
𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏

With the sound of the timer going off on the oven, I slide across the hardwood floor in my fuzzy socks and get the cookies out.

The scent of the decorative Pillsbury holiday sugary treats bring me nostalgia, roaming through the house, over the burning 'pine wonderland' candles I have lit.

"Mmm." I can't resist the two-bite cookie but I must because they're so hot. I like these cookies the best when they cool down a little, personally.

Chris, however, prefers them right out of the oven. So, I pop three on a small plate and take them to him downstairs in the family room.

Stevie follows me, in her seasonal bandana, and barks happily once we reach the boys by the fireplace.

We've dressed Duke in a matching festive bandanna-collar, too. His is green while Stevie's in red and they both say "Santa's little helper."

We are pretty sure Stevie is pregnant, though it's only been a week. She has morning sickness, already but we won't find out for sure until we take her to the vet for a pregnancy test in another eleven days.

Because they're expecting, though, we've been making space within the four walls off of the upstairs entertainment room. It was acting as another closet for me, but the dogs can have it to themselves. I know all about wanting to expand the family and move into a bigger space. Cough cough.

Chris stands, shirtless, and rolls the waistband of the matching pajamas down. I watch him do this and smile like I've been hypnotized, seduced by his rippling abs and happy trail.

"Cookies?" The rasp of his voice lures me further into a state of arousal but I fight off my urges to present him with the dessert.

"These are the best, thank you." Chris talks while chewing one cookie.

I laugh quietly and get back to decorating the Christmas tree with the finishing touches.

"A-hem." I clear my throat at Chris who sits back down to watch the NBA game on tv.

"Huh?" Chris doesn't bother turning around.

When I clear my throat again, this time purposely more obnoxious, Chris goes, "Oh."

He gets up and walks over to me, easily lifting me onto his shoulders so that I can put the star on top of the tree.

I cradle off of his shoulders and onto the couch, remembering all those years of competitive cheer.

"It looks good." Chris says, taking a step back to gaze at the Blue Spruce tree in it's entirety.
Because Chris pushed his return to work date back (again) we went tree shopping. Everybody's on the fake tree train now but I can't do it. Chris's family has always had a real tree, and so did I growing up. Granted, Callie always managed to find the most piss poor trees - they were always so sad, like the runt of the bunch no one who respected themselves or their home would buy. Though we wouldn't have that many presents under the tree— unless for Quinn— I'd make it my goal to have the best decorated tree and up myself every year.

Chris's height trumps mine as he towers over me, kneeling in the couch cushion.

"Are you excited for work?" I ask although I'm sure I know the answer is no.

At first he was but then he got skeptical, wondering why they'd want him back after so many weeks? What happened with Beck? Blah blah blah. I say let's call it (un)divine intervention and leave it at that.

Chris pops his shoulders. "I'm ready for bed."

"Aw, you're sleepy?" I frown, turning off the tv as I'm ready to clean up and prepare to sleep.

"No," Chris says, scooping my body off of the couch. "we're going to bed."

"Oh." I giggle, happily kicking my feet as I'm carried to our bedroom.

~~~

"Have the best day." I wish Chris as I watch him walk through the door.

"You too. I love you." He kisses my head.

I hold his wrist and let the moisture sink into my skin.

I look over Chris's face once more and comb the hair from his forehead. "I love you, too. So much."

Chris jogs down the steps and I sigh as I watch him do this.

Just as I'm about to close the door, though, Chris runs back and kisses all over my face.

"I love you more!" He makes me laugh.

"Go, go!" I shoo Chris away before he's late."Be safe, baby, it's supposed to storm later."

Chris looks up at the sky and then promises to call me when he gets to work and before he leaves so I know he's alright.

I shut myself inside while Chris let's the Tesla warm up some more before driving in these conditions.

I'm not usually one for prayer but I pray for Chris. I pray that he has an easy transition back into work, and that he makes it there, and back home, safely.

~

Stevie's been napping all day. She hasn't played fetch with me or Duke, she's barely even eaten. Poor girl.

Me, on the other hand, I can't stop eating. I kept a stash of those cookies hidden from Chris so that I can indulge all day long.

"—You sure you don't want me to come over?" Jasmine asks me over the phone.

"No," I insist, peering out of the window into the whiteness that has covered the city. "Enjoy your day off. Besides, I don't want you coming out in this weather."

"It's not that bad, you only live a few blocks away."

"Jas, really, I'm good." I sigh, closing the blinds. "I'll just entertain myself with the dogs, watch some old Christmas movies, clean a little. You?"

"Trey got in last night, so you know he getting on my nerves."

I laugh at their sibling nonsense. "Tell him I miss him."

"I will, you know he miss you, too. Why don't we do something this weekend? We can celebrate Chris getting his job back."

"Any reason for drinks, am I right?" I make Jas laugh.

"Exactly!"

I plop down on the couch and look at the classic platform mini Ugg boots weighing on my feet. Chris just randomly bought me them the other day in the mall. I was going to get them for myself, but didn't stop because I was shopping for his mother, mine, Kailyn, Izzy, Tim, and Jasmine. Ah, he's so selfless, I love the boots, and I love him.

"I gotta go," Jas talks quickly. "Trey said 'hey.'"

"Heyyy." I sing happily into the speaker.

After our goodbyes and I love you's, Jasmine ends the call.

"What now?" I ask Stevie.

~

Since I've decided to give Duke, Stevie, and their future puppies the small converted laundry room, I need to move my stuff out of there.

My cleaning led to downsizing which led to packing up things I do want and things I can rid of.

I know Kailyn wants a lot of my hand-me-downs so I label a bag with her name and toss whatever I no longer want inside of it.

The music playing from my Amazon Echo speaker drives my productivity.

Once finished in the downstairs bedroom that I've converted into my "creative space," I take a stab at my walk-in.

The first thing that catches my eye is a black Saint Laurent box. It stands out because I don't typically keep the shoe boxes as I have shelves and racks for my shoes; I always trash the designer packaging because keeping it for display is corny to me.

I open the box and am hit suddenly with remembrance. Since Chris had all of that money in the safe, I put my valuables in here. It's not the safest, most discrete place to hide priceless items, but it's better than keeping them around the house in plain sight, I believe.

I look through the box and see a gun. It's the one that Nick Adams gave me, I haven't looked at it since our time on their farm. I haven't needed to.

Well, now that Chris has cleared space in the safe, I can put my things in there.

As I move my things from the shoe box to the steel one in the wall, I find a pink pocket knife and hold onto it. It'll only be for protection, you never know. . .

Also in the safe, though, some of Chris's belongings. Our video camera that contains the rest of our home videos, his more expensive wrist watches and rings, and a Glock. Like, an actual one. I mean, I knew he had a gun, it's just alarming to see it sitting here when I only hear about them in rap and action movies. The one Nick gave me is a little rifle for, like, scaring away raccoons or something. No matter, I won't be firing either of them.

I lock the safe and wipe my hands clean.

~

"Hehe." I laugh at SpongeBob on the tv as I watch an old Christmas episode in bed.

It's almost six o'clock so when my phone rings, I don't have to look at it to know that it's Chris calling to let me know he's on his way so I don't worry.

Listening to it ring, I wipe the hot Cheeto dust from my fingers before picking up the phone. What, I had a craving. They're good.

On the fourth or so ring, I answer the call. "Hello?"

"Morgan! Morgan, baby, listen to me: I need you to pack right now-" Chris cautions me but I cut him off, scared.

"Why?" I fret, jumping out of bed.

"Lock all the doors, close the— and pack a bag for the both of us. I don't know [for] how long, but make sure you can carry it to your car in one go. I need you to be quick. Make sure there are no spare keys anywhere and get everything out of the safe." I do as he says but can't help but tremble with anxiety.

"Chris, tell me what's going on right now. Where are you?" I flip through the closet, putting him on speaker so I can use both hands and move faster.

I throw whatever is comfortable and convenient into two extra large luggage bags. Socks, underwear, gloves, beanies, t-shirts, sweatpants, one extra coat each, and only a pair of sneakers and one pair of boots for the both of us.
I hurriedly pull on a Helly Hansen long, white puffy parka and make sure everything absolutely necessary is in my purse from pepper spray to my license, phone chargers, and wallet.

Chris talks again. "Get the dogs and meet me at Yara and Nick's house. That's the only safe place I can think of. I know it's a long drive, but I'll meet you out there, okay? I'm on my way."

I shake my head, lugging the bags over my shoulder, jogging downstairs after turning off the lights and tv. "Chris, don't do this to me, tell me where you are?"

I make sure all the electronics are off and grab Duke and Stevie's leash/harnesses.

"I'm on my way to their house," Chris promises. "Morgan, move faster, this is serious. I don't know what the fuck is going on, but it's Sabrina. I'm not trying to scare you, I just need you out of the house, like now, Morgan. Right now." The urgency in his voice carries me to back to the safe. I had almost forgotten about the things in our safe. I drop everything by the front door and dash back into our bedroom.

I input the code and scrape everything from the guns, the jewelry, camera, inside of my purse.

The pink knife, though, I stuff into one of my scrunched white crew socks.

"Okay," I sniffle to myself, rubbing back downstairs once I'm sure I have everything. Keys, luggage, dogs, valuables, money, ID.

"Stay on the phone with me." I beg Chris once he falls silent.

"Babe, my phone is about to die—"

I pull the phone from my ear and look at his location on my screen. Acting fast, I screenshot it.

"Hello?" I try to speak.

"Chris?!"

He isn't there anymore.

"Shit!" I curse and run out of the door.

I try to let my car warm up but it's taking too long.

"—Tim Torro or Torro Construction Co. has just been found dead in his home." A radio host says before my phone connects to the Bluetooth.

I can hardly process the information before my phone tells me which direction to drive.

Time is obviously something we don't have enough of, and I need to find Chris wherever he is, so I don't waste a second. He said to meet him at Yara and Nick's, I've texted them that I'm on my way, but his location is somewhere unfamiliar.

After a nearly thirty-five minute drive, I'm only a couple minutes away from the destination.

Jasmine's text message alters my vision of the exit I'm supposed to take so I swipe away the notification and almost miss my turn.

I continue straight until reaching a desolate part of town.

"Arrived." Siri announces.

I close the Maps application and grab the pepper spray from my purse before getting out of my car.

Chris would be brave, so I channel that, willing myself to walk along the few inches of snow blanketing the ground under my feet.

I inhale deeply and move along with caution.

"Chris!" I scream upon seeing his matte black Tesla model Y parked in front of the old warehouse.

I reach for the driver's door handle but the car isn't unlocked.

I pound my fists on the windows. When that doesn't work, I use the fabric on my forearm to wipe a hole in the tinted glass so I can peek inside of the car.

He's not in there.

I'm almost discouraged but then remember I have the app on my phone (and a physical key card) and can use that to unlock his electric car!

I navigate the app and successfully open the car. Chris isn't inside but I begin to search for clues.

Nothing.

"Damn it." I curse, slamming the center console closed.

I text Jasmine pictures of my current location before my fingers get too cold and I have to slip my gloves back on.

Pulling myself together, I start again towards the warehouse.

I want to remain silent at first, just in case, but after not being able to see Chris in the darkness, I shout out his name.

"H-hello? Who's there?" A man's voice scares me into a corner.

I keep my pepper spray behind my back and swallow hard, trying to remain still and quiet.

The man steps into the crack of light from the busted out window and looks relieved to see me.

"Morgan? Morgan, it's me, Beck. W-what are you doing here?" Beck Jordan appears as a ghost. Or at least that's how it seems. After that beating, no one's seen or heard from him.

He stalks towards me inch by inch with his arms stretched out as if for help or consolation.

I tilt my head. "I'm looking for Chris." I almost regret mentioning my fiancé to him.

Beck's blue eyes look darker when they bulge at the mention of Chris's disappearance.

"Me too!" Beck exclaims. "I heard about what happened... People are saying it was Chris; he disappeared from work around the same time that Tim apparently killed himself."

I cement myself in place. "No," I shake my head. "You don't believe it was Chris, do you?"

"I don't want to." Beck exhales with his hands on his hips but I'm not buying his facial expression, he seems to believe it was Chris. I'm not stupid.

"His car is outside, I just want to find him and get out of here. You didn't explain why you're here."

"He beat my ass, rightfully so, that doesn't mean I want to see him go down for this. I know what they'll — those people— will do to him, and I think I know who did this." Beck says, pacing around me in circles.

"Who?" I snap my neck to meet his face.

"Sabrina Bowie." Beck gives up the information all too fast.

Sabrina? Of course, I think. How dumb of me to think I could actually humanize her and give her an ounce of trust or respect.

"I'll help you find him," Beck says, walking towards the back of the building where it's dark. "I think he has to be this way."

I stay planted where I am, unsure.

Beck realizes that I'm not trailing him and turns. He flails his arms and returns to me by the entrance. "I may not like Chris but I don't want you out here worrying all night, it's a blizzard out there and this isn't the best part of town." His words come off more sincere this time.

I look him in the eyes and nod my head, agreeing to go with him.

Beck smiles small and leads the way.

I watch him jump over a broken fixture to enter the next room and he moves out of the way to let me go next.

"Watch your step." He warns, fading further into the blackness behind him.

I brace myself for the small dismount and jump.

"Beck?" I wonder where he went.

"Beck?" I call out his name again.

Unh-Unh. Nope.

I quickly get a bad feeling and rotate on my heels to run back towards the entrance from which I came, but I'm grabbed from the back all of sudden.

I fight hard, kicking and screaming to escape this hold, my feet not touching the floor.

"HELP!" My scream is muffled behind a glove covering my mouth.

The pepper spray rolls out of my hands, onto the floor.

I open my mouth to scream for help again but a cloth covers my nose.

"HELP ME," I croak, starting to struggle less and less. "HELP... ME... Hel—"