her father just as she had back then. Her heart felt like it beat too fast for her body to contain it, and she trembled all over, so badly her teeth chattered. She tried to take deep breaths and envision herself in a safer place, repeated her mantra of “it was just a dream” over and over again, but her chest only burned hotter and squeezed tighter, and she started to wheeze.
Unable to make the aftermath go away this time, with fingers trembling, Abby reached for her phone.
* * *
Rodrigo slammed the door of his truck and glared at the man emerging from the familiar black Accord. “What are you doing here?” he asked Braden, his voice low out of deference to the dead silence and lateness of the hour.
Even in the shadows, Rodrigo saw Braden arch his brow in an exaggerated manner
“I would imagine for the same reason you are.” Braden pocketed his keys and jogged toward the residential entrance to Abby’s building. “Abby called me.”
Smart-ass.
Rodrigo ignored the jab punching him in the gut. His pride didn’t like that Abby had felt the need to call someone other than him.
“I figured that out, genius,” Rodrigo replied. “Did she tell you why?”
“She just said ‘Can you come? I need company.’” Braden rapped his fist against the metal door. “So here I am.”
Rodrigo went ahead and leaned heavily on the buzzer as well. “Same for me.” He studied Braden—who looked just as rumpled as Rodrigo did—out of the corner of his eye. “Fucking A, Crenshaw. I have to give you credit. You nailed it. You said she would call when she was ready, and look what happened. Wasn’t expecting she’d want me.” He chuckled. “Or you.”
“I don’t know.” Braden kept his pale gaze steady on Rodrigo. “You’re the one I’d call if I only had one quarter and needed help.” The rich layers in his voice went well past Rodrigo’s ear canals and penetrated his bloodstream. “You or her.”
Shit . That funny little shimmering sensation waved down Rodrigo’s spine again. He busied himself running his hands through his hair, straightening his bedhead in a way he hadn’t taken the time to do at home. “You’re behind the times, man,” he muttered, glancing at Braden repeatedly, as much as he didn’t want to. “A quarter ain’t gonna get you anybody these days.”
Braden’s lips parted, but sounds on the other side of the door snapped his mouth closed. A moment later, Abby pulled the door open, appearing almost ghostlike in ethereal white. The cloud of her fiery hair only served to contrast the near translucency of her skin.
“Shit, honey.” Rodrigo automatically stepped closer and wrapped his hand under her elbow. Her skin almost left frostbite on his fingers. “Are you all right?”
The red slash of Abby’s lips pushed up slightly at the edges. “Yeah.” Her forehead pulled together between her auburn brows. “I thought so.” She rubbed the lines away, almost looking far away from them. “I’m not sure anymore.”
“Okay. Let’s get inside.” Braden stretched his arms to surround Abby and Rodrigo, and he nudged them into the foyer with small, guiding steps. “It’s fucking cold tonight, and you’re not wearing any socks or slippers.”
Braden’s words caused Rodrigo to look down at Abby’s bare feet. He could see the blue veins running under her skin.
I should pick her up and carry her upstairs. That would tear her out of this funk. At least for long enough to punch me in the kidney and demand I put her down.
Before Rodrigo could stoop down and grab Abby under the knees, she waved them toward the stairs. “Come on upstairs, guys. I dragged you both all the way over here. The least I can do is offer you a drink.”
Braden took a moment to lock the door, and then Rodrigo could feel the man follow behind him up to the landing. Abby stepped carefully in front of Rodrigo, each movement measured, controlled, and his concern for her grew.
“What’s the matter, Bit?”
Unable to make the aftermath go away this time, with fingers trembling, Abby reached for her phone.
* * *
Rodrigo slammed the door of his truck and glared at the man emerging from the familiar black Accord. “What are you doing here?” he asked Braden, his voice low out of deference to the dead silence and lateness of the hour.
Even in the shadows, Rodrigo saw Braden arch his brow in an exaggerated manner
“I would imagine for the same reason you are.” Braden pocketed his keys and jogged toward the residential entrance to Abby’s building. “Abby called me.”
Smart-ass.
Rodrigo ignored the jab punching him in the gut. His pride didn’t like that Abby had felt the need to call someone other than him.
“I figured that out, genius,” Rodrigo replied. “Did she tell you why?”
“She just said ‘Can you come? I need company.’” Braden rapped his fist against the metal door. “So here I am.”
Rodrigo went ahead and leaned heavily on the buzzer as well. “Same for me.” He studied Braden—who looked just as rumpled as Rodrigo did—out of the corner of his eye. “Fucking A, Crenshaw. I have to give you credit. You nailed it. You said she would call when she was ready, and look what happened. Wasn’t expecting she’d want me.” He chuckled. “Or you.”
“I don’t know.” Braden kept his pale gaze steady on Rodrigo. “You’re the one I’d call if I only had one quarter and needed help.” The rich layers in his voice went well past Rodrigo’s ear canals and penetrated his bloodstream. “You or her.”
Shit . That funny little shimmering sensation waved down Rodrigo’s spine again. He busied himself running his hands through his hair, straightening his bedhead in a way he hadn’t taken the time to do at home. “You’re behind the times, man,” he muttered, glancing at Braden repeatedly, as much as he didn’t want to. “A quarter ain’t gonna get you anybody these days.”
Braden’s lips parted, but sounds on the other side of the door snapped his mouth closed. A moment later, Abby pulled the door open, appearing almost ghostlike in ethereal white. The cloud of her fiery hair only served to contrast the near translucency of her skin.
“Shit, honey.” Rodrigo automatically stepped closer and wrapped his hand under her elbow. Her skin almost left frostbite on his fingers. “Are you all right?”
The red slash of Abby’s lips pushed up slightly at the edges. “Yeah.” Her forehead pulled together between her auburn brows. “I thought so.” She rubbed the lines away, almost looking far away from them. “I’m not sure anymore.”
“Okay. Let’s get inside.” Braden stretched his arms to surround Abby and Rodrigo, and he nudged them into the foyer with small, guiding steps. “It’s fucking cold tonight, and you’re not wearing any socks or slippers.”
Braden’s words caused Rodrigo to look down at Abby’s bare feet. He could see the blue veins running under her skin.
I should pick her up and carry her upstairs. That would tear her out of this funk. At least for long enough to punch me in the kidney and demand I put her down.
Before Rodrigo could stoop down and grab Abby under the knees, she waved them toward the stairs. “Come on upstairs, guys. I dragged you both all the way over here. The least I can do is offer you a drink.”
Braden took a moment to lock the door, and then Rodrigo could feel the man follow behind him up to the landing. Abby stepped carefully in front of Rodrigo, each movement measured, controlled, and his concern for her grew.
“What’s the matter, Bit?”
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