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“I’m—I’m okay. I’m outside. It’s a neighborhood. I don’t want to start walking to try and find a—a store, or—”
“It’s okay. That’s okay. If you feel like it’s safe enough to wait there, then text me the address.”
“I sent it.” Oh, God. She sounds so small. So lost. Just once, I wish I could be her hero from start to finish. A wealthy, powerful woman with a fleet of cars, ready to leave at a moment’s notice to get my sister.
Her text pops up. “It’s here. I have to hang up for a few minutes so I can get going. Do you want me to call you back once I’m out of my apartment?”
“Just come get me. Please.”
“I’m coming.” I want to give her more instructions.Text me if you leave the house. Text me if anything happens. Tell me what happened.“I love you. I’m on my way. I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you.” The call disconnects in the middle ofyou, and I know that’s because she’s crying.
My sister’s crying outside some house party in Brentwood. Somebody hurt her, or scared her, or upset her. Now that she’s not on the phone, I feel frantic.
I don’t trust an Uber to get here in time or to be okay with rescuing my sister. Charlotte’s pregnant. She’s probably exhausted. The last thing she needs is for me to wake her up and ask her for a ride. I’m not calling my parents.
Socks. Shoes. Purse. I’ll walk to her. At least I can get moving.
No. Jesus. It’s, like, forty miles to Brentwood.
My hands know what to do, even if my mind doesn’t want it. It’s like someone else is scrolling through my contacts. Someone who isn’t so heartbroken that her chest aches. Someone who can’t sleep, even though she has to be up at three-thirty to start baking.
It’s someone else who finds Gabriel’s name and taps it with her thumb.
The pressure in my chest increases.No,my heartbeat says.Don’t do this. Don’t do this.
Don’t, because he might not answer. Don’t, because he might be with someone else. It’s almost a guarantee that he’ll be with someone else.
You were right. I was just using you to get into the consortium.
“Elise?”
Gabriel wasn’t sleeping. His voice is too clear. He sounds too alert. I could choke on the intense jealousy on my tongue. I could die from the relief of hearing him say my name. I could burn up like a scrap of pastry in the oven from the shame of having no one else in mind to call but the beautiful, broken asshole who stood outside this apartment and broke up with me.
Taking a tight virgin pussy never gets old, so thanks for that. It was a fun way to pass the time while I got what I really wanted, but that’s over now.
“I know it’s late, but I need your help. If you’re busy, tell me right now, because I don’t have much time. If you are, I—”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at my apartment, but my sister’s at a house party in Brentwood. She asked me to come get her. She sounded pretty shaken up, and—”
It’s not the sound of voices that interrupts me. Not the sound of a person, sleepy in Gabriel’s bed. Or another bed.
It’s footsteps on hardwood.
It’s theclinkandscrapeof keys in a lock.
“I’m coming to your place, then we’ll go and get your sister. And Elise?”
“Yeah?”
“Donotwait outside on the sidewalk. I’ll come up for you. I’ll be right there.”
He’s serious. Gabriel arrives at my apartment so fast it seems impossible. I keep waiting to be let down. Waiting for the moment I’ll have to call the emergency Uber and hope it turns out. But then the stairs leading up to my floor creak under the weight of a man who’s taking them two at a time. A quick look through the peephole—dark hair, green eyes, Gabriel—and I yank it open.
A pinch at my gut. Heat in my cheeks. He’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him, even out of the corner of my eye. He hurt me so much.
