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Dane looked at him with his mouth twisted in confusion. “I’m not hooking up with some random woman. Is this some sort of test? Are we suddenly becoming enemies? You trying to trip me up?”
Jaxson leaned in closer. “I meant Gabby, dumbass. Go to her.” His expression softened with pain. “One of us should at least end the night happy.”
“And if she slams the door in my face?”
Because Dane saw it as a possibility. The look of heartache and hurt in her eyes this morning couldn’t be forgotten.
“Then I got a nice bottle of whiskey at home that I don’t mind sharing.”
Well, Dane preferred Gabriella over whiskey. But at least he had something to fall back on if she pushed him away once again.
* * *
Gabby unlockedher apartment door and slammed it.
Whoops!
She slammed it a bit too hard. Mrs. Stenson might come to check on her like she had the one time she dropped her crockpot, and it made the loudest noise imaginable. Not to mention, it broke into pieces. It had made her sad she had to buy a new one because that one had worked like a charm. Sure, she had to use a specific outlet to get it to work, the machine was a finicky one. The dial was stuck on low, so no matter what meal she wanted to cook, she had to adjust the time to a low setting. It didn’t matter. She had loved the crockpot, and the new one didn’t cook the same with all its fancy features.
She waited for a beat or two. When no knock sounded on the door with concern from her elderly neighbor who liked to worry about everyone on their floor, she flipped the lock and headed for the kitchen.
She had two choices.
Drink herself into oblivion.
Or try calling Dane one more time.
She had called him before she left her apartment.
No answer.
His office had been devoid of him except for his slimy brother. Before she caught a cab to his apartment, she tried calling him again.
No answer.
When she arrived at his apartment, she knew before she even unlocked the door, he wasn’t inside. Despite the ache that stretched across her heart, she tried calling him again.
No answer.
Her eyes glided to her wine rack. Then her eyes trailed to her purse hanging loosely in her hand where her phone was hidden inside.
Decisions, decisions.
She didn’t want to end the night without clearing the air between her and Dane. It didn’t feel right. That age-old saying “don’t go to bed mad” rang true to her right now. It wasn’t something she thought about before.
But could she handle another ringing rejection with him not answering his phone?
She’d cried enough last night. She didn’t know if her body could handle any more tears.
And it’d be nice to thank Dane while she apologized for her behavior. Because her mind had been more focused on him rather than the shooting she had been involved in. She was thankful for that. She didn’t like to see that man’s soulless eyes staring back at her—no life in them. No hatred. Nothing but emptiness. Because she had killed him.
She eyed the wine rack again.
Getting drunk didn’t sound appealing, even though it would help erase painful memories. But only for the night. She didn’t want it for just one night.
She wanted Dane. She wanted his warm arms around her, soothing her. Comforting her. He made the painful memories not seem as bad. As close to her.
She dumped the contents of her purse onto the counter, too lazy to dig for her phone. It slid out and stopped a few inches from landing off the counter.
