“Avoiding the conversation and relying on those you work with to give you what he normally does is.”
Sniffling, she nods. “What would you do? If you were in his position?”
“Probably shoot my brains out, actually.” When she smiles, I wink. “I’d want to help out my girl. If part of me didn’t work, I still got other parts. But I’d be pretty hurt if she didn’t tell me she needed something because she thought I’d feel bad.”
“What if he feels like less of a man?”
“He might. Hell, he probably will. But give him a chance to be a man and give you what you need before you start turning to others.”
Biting her lower lip, she nods and sighs. “You’re right. I guess falling for someone as cheerful as the sun makes you smarter in the world of romance, huh?”
“Something like that. I’ll see you around, Queenie.”
“Bye, Pacino.”
Ihead back to the bakery and about lose my shit when I find it dark and locked. It’s two hours before closing time, and I call Scotty, my anxiety shooting through the roof.
“Pacino—”
“Where the fuck are you?” I bark.
“At Sarah’s place. I told her this was a bad idea, but she insisted.”
Frowning, I’m ready to tell Scotty his ass is grass. “Sarah?”
“Phoebe. I don’t know what happened, but she was a wreck. Doesn’t wanna stay at your place anymore, man.”
She’s scared of my family. I didn’t really give her much of a reason to believe I could keep her safe. “What’s Sarah’s address?”
“She said—”
“If I have to track your phone, I’m going to make it hurt when I see you.”
He reluctantly gives me the address and I take off, nearly getting T-boned as I run a stop sign. But I don’t care. I need to reassure Phoebe we’re not letting anything happen to her.
Once she knows I’ll die before letting anyone—especially my family—hurt her, she can come home with me. Feeling reassured and as safe as she felt yesterday. Just like she told me when she was drunk. She was safe because she was with me.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Scotty says, meeting me on the porch of Sarah’s place. “Once we stopped at her place to pick up more of her stuff, it took nearly an hour to convince her that she can’t stay alone. Not with Ryan in town.”
This doesn’t make sense. “But you convinced her?”
“After threatening to fireman-carry her out of the place.”
“Where is she?”
He sighs and moves aside. “First door on the right. Off the kitchen.”
“Scotty!” Sarah scolds when I walk inside. “Are you going to let burglars in that easily? Tell them where the good stuff is kept, too?”
“Like you have good stuff,” he argues.
Ignoring the two of them, I walk into the room Scotty directed me to, and I find Phoebe lying on the bed. I shut the door behind me and want to wrap her up in my arms. “I know you’re scared, Yellow Crayon, but—”
“I’m not scared.”
She’s curled up in the fetal position, and I can tell she’s been crying. Poor thing doesn’t need this shit on top of her first hangover.
But the way she won’t look at me tells me there’s something going on I don’t understand. “Then why are you here?”
