“I’m not waiting. I’ll head home right now to pack and meet you at your place.”
Anson gives an affirmative, and I woodenly hang up.
“What’s wrong?” The two softly spoken words bring the warehouse back into focus. Eliza stands before me, hazel eyes wide with concern.
“Dawson.” My voice cracks. Amanda’s chair scrapes against the floor as she stands. Two other team members glance over in concern.
Get your shit together.Taking a breath, I shove out, “Dawson’s been in a car accident. He’s in the ICU, in Ohio. I need to go.”
I’m expecting hysterics. Some mirror of the volatile emotions tumbling in my gut. But Eliza merely grasps my arm, her thumb stroking my skin.
It feels like a fucking life raft.
“What do you need?” she asks calmly.
Her question pulls me from the storm. Helps me focus.
It also slaps me with the reality of the next few days. Of all the times to have an emergency, this is one of the worst. All that panic spirals up again.
“Fuck,” I mutter, yanking off my hat and tugging my hair. “I can’t…I can’t go?—”
Eliza’s grip firms around my arm. “You’re going.”
She doesn’t understand. “Steve’s out. We have a full schedule, and that fucking festival…”
Fuck.
Ican’tleave, but I need to. Dawson’s fighting for his life. Nothing is more important than him right now. “I guess—we’ll have to skip the festival, cancel some tours. Amanda, can you?—”
“We’re not skipping or cancelling anything,” Eliza states. “You’re leaving, and Amanda and your very capable team and I are going to cover everything.” She steps closer, using her free hand to pull mine away from my head. “I will take care of Dave. I will get a ride back to your place. All you need to do is go home, get your things, and go see your brother.”
The steady confidence of her voice is like a heaven-scent balm, breaking through my panic.
But it’s not just her voice. It’s the fact that Iknowshe’ll follow through on her word. If anyone can make hard thingswork, it’s this incredible woman, with her stubbornness and drive and sheer capability.
And she has a damn good team with her—though she’d do it on her own, no doubt.
Eliza isn’t some flimsy fucking life raft. She’s a full-fledged rescue boat.
Not caring that everyone can see, I yank her to me and lock her in a hug. She comes easily, wrapping her arms around me, like us embracing is the most natural thing in the world.
It feels like it—the way she fits into my chest, her salt-tinged, flowery scent wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.
“Thank you,” I say into her soft hair.
Then, because I can’t help myself, I kiss her right there in front of everyone.
When I’m in the airport with Anson two hours later, slugging through security, the thought of what lies ahead twisting my stomach with dread, it’s the memory of that kiss that loosens the knot enough for me to breathe.
30
ELIZA
“We gotoff to a rocky start, and I’m willing to take the blame for that. I made some false assumptions about you when we first met, and I realize that my hostility toward you hasn’t been…productive.”
My words are met with a blank stare.
Taking a nervous inhale, I reach behind my back, grab the gift, and set it on the floor. “Consider this a peace offering.”
