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My best friend Shyla’s sultry voice, the one that had won her a reality show singing contest and a movie role that had catapulted her into stardom, purred through the phone, “Hello? Tyler?”
Confused, I blinked for a moment before I said, “No, it’s me, Nora.”
There was a moment of silence, then Shyla said in a much louder voice, “Nora? What are you doing calling me from Tyler McRay’s house?”
“How do you know I’m at his house?”
“Caller ID.”
Blushing, I cleared my throat. “Oh, right. Well, um, see I was running on the beach, and I kinda thought this guy was following me. My phone’s battery ran out, and I was beginning to panic, then I noticed Tyler. He had this big red and yellow surfboard that caught my eye, and when I saw him and how massive he was…well, he looks like the kind of guy that could take care of himself. I ran up to him and pretended that I knew him, then he ended up taking me back to his house so he could give me a ride home.”
More silence, then Shyla said in a worried voice, “Hold up, some dude was following you while you ran?”
“Well, I’m not sure he was, but I was getting worried. You know me, I always worry about stupid things. I’m such a crybaby—”
“Stop, right there.” Shyla growled. “Stop apologizing for something that isn’t your fault. Stop calling yourself bad names. I swear to God, if your ex wasn’t already in jail for the next twenty years, I’d fly to Oklahoma and kick his ass for how much he screwed with your head. If you felt like you were in danger, you did the right thing. Never hesitate to trust your instincts, okay? Safety first.”
“Okay.” I wanted to argue with her, but instead I bit my lip and nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Sorry. I mean, not sorry. Sorry that I’m not sorry I’m sorry?”
Her soft laugh made some of the stiffness leave my muscles. I hated it when anyone was angry around me. I’d grown up in a hyper-critical household and still bore the emotional scars that seemed to flare up when anyone around me was pissed off.
“It’s okay, sugar. I didn’t mean to get so loud. I just can’t believe that you landed in Tyler McCray’s arms.”
A strange whisper of jealousy curled in my stomach at the familiar and slightly awed way she said his name. “How do you know him?”
“We’re acquaintances,” she said in a vague tone. “I’ll explain it more when you get home.”
“Okay.” I glanced at the stairs and tried to listen for the sound of running water, but the soundproofing proved too good to tell if Tyler was still in the shower. “He’s getting ready for work right now, and he said he will drop me off on the way.”
“He told you where he works?”
“No.” I squinted my eyes, her squeaky tone pinging my radar. “Why?”
“I’ll tell you later, but don’t tell him you know me,” she said quickly.
“Why? You’re being weird.”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Just—it would be better if we talk first. I’ve gotta run, but I’m glad you’re okay. And we’ll be having a safety chat later, young lady.”
Shaking my head with a smile, I said goodbye and hung up. I’d known Shyla since we were both kids growing up together in bumfuck Oklahoma far, far, far away from the beach. The town we’d grown up in was nice enough, but isolated and so small that everyone knew everyone. And it was conservative. Like way conservative—and not in a good way. We’d both gotten out as soon as we could, me with a scholarship in computer animation, her with a scholarship in acting to the same college. In our senior year, Shyla won The North American Songbird competition. She’d been launched into fame while I still worked low-paying jobs animating for overseas clients in my crappy apartment in Tulsa.
My wandering thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like the high-pitched crying of a baby.
The hair on the back of my neck rose as the almost eerie sound repeated, and I glanced at the stairway, taking a step closer when I realized it was coming from upstairs.
Tia also looked toward the sound, then took off while I stood there, debating what to do next.
This wasn’t my house, and Tyler said he lived here alone…but I for sure heard a baby crying in distress.
A shrill note entered the cry, followed by silence, then another almost unearthly wail. That sound spurred me into action. I shoved aside any worries about invading his privacy as I sprinted up the stairs. There was a baby somewhere up there, and he or she was in pain.
Another harsh wail came from the end of the hallway. As I dashed toward the sound, I frantically tried to remember all the infant first aid information I’d learned at the YMCA when I became a certified babysitter at thirteen.
