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Mick and her younger brother Josh were behind the bar, while Lisa was pouring draft for a customer. Lisa glanced up and waved, mouthing, “I’ll just be a second,” before turning back to the guys sitting in front of her.
Huh. Since when did Lisa sling beer at The Black Dog?
“Besides, I’m not here to work,” Abby said, and then punched Cooper in the chest. “But I am here to make Coop a Slippery Nipple. I promised him the full Mathews treatment.”
Mick didn’t bother glancing at Cooper. His dark eyes, so intense and full of
worry, settled on her.
“I’m glad you’re here, Abs. I was coming over after my shift.”
Abby slipped behind the bar. “Now you don’t have to.”
Mick cracked a smile. “No. I don’t.” He tossed her a rag and then turned to Cooper, arms crossed over his chest. All business and gruff. “So, which one are you?”
Cooper slid onto the only empty stool at the bar. “I’m the asshole.”
“Huh,” Mick said, while Abby tried to hide a smile. “Good to know.”
The next few hours flew by and there, surrounded by her friends and family, Abby was able to forget, if only for a little while, just how sucktastic her life had become. She made Cooper several Slippery Nipples and had more than a few herself. Sex on the Beach was epic, and then they moved onto Margaritas.
By midnight she was flying high and feeling too damn good. So good in fact at first she didn’t feel her cell vibrate. More than a little drunk, it took some doing to dig it out of her front pocket.
Abby stared at the name on the screen, blinking rapidly because it was blurred.
Tucker.
Shit, were those tears?
Scrubbing at her face, she slid off the stool—nearly falling on her ass and headed toward the stock room. It would be quiet in there, and right now, she needed quiet. Right now she needed sober, but she was working on that.
“Abby!” Her brother stared after her, his eyebrow raised in question. Cooper swiveled around on his stool and Abby held the cell up, mouthing, “Tucker.”
They both nodded, and she hurried through the pool room, not stopping until she closed the door behind her and shut out the noise of the bar. She held the phone up to her ear and slid down the wall until she was on the floor.
She was so scared her hands were shaking.
“Hey,” she said voice scratchy, like she’d swallowed sandpaper.
For a few scary seconds she couldn’t hear anything, and then he was there, in her head. She closed her eyes, felt his warmth and he was right there beside her.
“Miss Mathews,” he said. “You sound like shit.”
Wiping away tears, Abby nodded, which was weird because it wasn’t as if he could see her. “I know. Sorry.” She paused. “You sound tired.”
“I am. It’s been a long few days. Sorry I didn’t call earlier, but I just…God, there’s so much going on here.”
“Don’t apologize, Tucker. I know you’re dealing with a lot. I just wish I could help you.”
“Hearing your voice. It helps.”
She sniffled but didn’t reply because there was a goddamn log stuck in her throat.
“I don’t know where to start,” Tucker said slowly.
God, she just wanted to know. Sucking in a big gulp of air, she tried to control her voice so that it wasn’t so pathetic and shaky. But it was no use. She was falling apart, and she couldn’t get anything out.
“Abby, it’s not her. It’s not Marley.”
