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How could anyone walk away from him?
CHAPTER THREE
“You know I love you,” she groans. “But it’s six o’clock in the fucking morning, Bri. Jesus!”
“I need you,” I whine into the phone.
“Bri, what’s wrong? Where are you?” Her tone does a one-eighty, turning from scolding me for calling her too early to whose ass do I need to kick—just like Alana. She’s my best friend, big sister, and mom all wrapped into one. Alana and Jackson, my brother, are both five years older than me, and both are protective as hell.
If I weren’t as exhausted as I am, I’d make an effort to laugh.
“At home.”
“Home?” she shrieks. “Why the hell are you doing at home?” She doesn’t allow me time to answer. “You’re on-call for another hour. Oh, God! Tell me you didn’t get shot or something worse.”
“What’s worse than getting shot?”
Dying. Definitely dying, but I’m not dead if I’m talking.
“Brianna Claire!” she yells, making me yank the phone away from my ear. I’m still able to hear her loud mouth. “Are you okay or not?”
“Breaking out my middle name? Really? I’m not Carrie, you know.”
Even though she won’t admit it, me being a cop scares the shit out of Alana. She’s my biggest supporter, but deep down, I know she hates it the same as my brother and father do.
“Sometimes, you’re worse than she is. At least she has an excuse. She’s sixteen.” Her breath comes through heavily over the phone. “What’s going on? You’re okay, right?”
“Yes. No. Yes.” It’s not that easy of an answer. “Look—”
“What does that mean? Yes no yes,” she mimics me in rapid irritation.
“I need you, and I need you to come to LA. Today. Now! Right now. Please,” I beg.
“Well, tell me what the fuck is going on? You haven’t said shit. Just caused me undue stress. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I don’t need this at my age.”
“You’re thirty-five. Jesus, woman, when did you start thinking like agrandma?”
She huffs, not liking my choice of words.
“Brianna,” she bites out. She rarely calls me Brianna. In fact, she’s the one who started calling me Bri when she and my brother started dating in high school. “Are you going to enlighten me as to why I need to drag my ass out of my comfortable bed to drive a miserable six and a half hours to LA?”
It’s nearly an eight-hour drive from her house to mine. But Alana doesn’t drive like most people.
“It’s...” I pause, glancing over at a now sleeping Gabriel. “Just too much to get into on the phone. You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t seriously need you.”
“I know.” She sighs, then I think I hear what sounds like a door slam. “That’s why I’m already on my way.”
A beeping sound comes through the phone. I know that sound. It’s the sound of her Mercedes unlocking.
“I’m getting in the car now. See ya in a few.”
The line goes dead. Alana is my savior.
I set my cell phone on the nightstand, then I glance back over to the baby lying in my bed. So far, so good. Maybe I have time for a quick shower, I think to myself.
That’s the moment a sharp, ear-piercing cry rips from Gabriel’s lips.
I bend over, my forehead landing on my knee and let out a sigh of my own. It looks like the shower is going to have to wait.
