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“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Brooke said. “Curly is mobilizing the troops.”
“Wait.” She jogged to the edge of the lawn, squinting to see farther. Far down the block, a figure walked on the sidewalk toward her. Something about the way they moved rang familiar. Her heart went into overdrive. “Oh, my God, Brooke, I think I see him. He’s-he’s walking. Why is he walking? Where’s his bike?”
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“No.” She squinted again and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the harsh Florida sun. “I think… yes! Yes, that’s him. I see him.” She started in Lock’s direction, walking so fast she was nearly running.
“Okay. Go. I’ll keep Curly on standby. Call me back.”
“Thank you, Brooke.”
“Forget that nonsense. We’re family.”
Brenna shoved the phone in her pocket and sped up to a flat-out run. Lock didn’t change his pace even as she ran closer. Something was wrong, for sure. He didn’t appear hurt—she didn’t see a limp—but his gait was weighed down with a heaviness that had her senses on full alert.
“Lock!” she shouted, waving her arms as she ran toward him. If any of his neighbors happened to glance out their windows, they’d see a frantic woman racing down the sidewalk, waving her arms like a lunatic.
But she didn’t care.
All she could think about was getting to Lock.
The second she reached him, she flung herself forward, slamming into him in a full-body hug. “Jesus, you scared me,” she whispered near his ear as she embraced him. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She panted, struggling to catch her breath. “Give me a minute. I need to do more cardio.”
A little part of her brain registered his nonreaction as she clung to him, huffing and puffing. He hadn’t wrapped his arms around her, relieved her fears, or even spoken.
Dread filled her.
“Lock?” she asked as she drew back. The blank look in his eyes had an icy wave washing over her. “What’s wrong?” she whispered. It wasn’t a question of if something was wrong, but what. Everything about him spoke to devastation—the slumped shoulders, the empty stare, the downturned mouth.
“I need you to do something for me. Right now,” he said, staring down at the cracked sidewalk.
She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Of course. Anything.”
“Reach into my right pocket.”
Brenna frowned as she shook her head in confusion. “Um, okay. Front or back?”
“Front.” His monotone voice had her terrified.
Any other time, she’d have thought this was a sexy, playful game, but today, the notion didn’t cross her mind. He didn’t move a muscle as she reached into his pocket. Her fingers encountered something that felt like a small bag. As she pulled it out and lifted it, her eyes widened, and she couldn’t stop the gasp that tore from deep inside.
Her gaze flew to his.
“Keep it away from me.”
“O-okay.” She knew less than nothing about drugs, but the white powder in a small baggie needed no explanation.
“Promise me.” He swallowed. “I can’t be trusted.” The admission made him hate himself. She could see it plain as day across his face.
“Of course, I promise.” She shoved the baggie into her pocket and then held his face again. “I’ll do anything you need.” Then she pressed a kiss to his lips. The fact that he didn’t respond nearly brought her to tears.
Brenna straightened and shoved down a hundred questions, shouting inside her head. She pushed aside her fear and heartache. Lock needed her help. It didn’t matter why or what he’d done. Those explanations would come later. For now, she needed to take care of him and get him through this night.
“Come on.” She grasped his limp hand. “Let’s go home. I’ll make you some coffee, and we can talk or lie down. Whatever you need.” She gave a gentle tug, and he dutifully followed but might as well have been a million miles away.
When they reached his house, she fished his keys out of his back pocket and let them into his home. “Go into the kitchen,” she suggested in a tender but firm tone. “Sit at the table. I’ll be right in.”
