I pull into her driveway alongside her van and throw open my door. Every atom in my body vibrates with the need to get to her. I need to know she’s alright.
I’m at her door in a few long strides. I rap my knuckles on the wood and wait.
No answer.
I knock again.
Silence.
After one last attempt, her muffled voice comes through the door. “Go away, Tyler.”
She sounds like she’s been crying. Has that piece of shit been harassing her?
Out of patience, I try the doorknob. It twists, there’s a quiet click, and the door swings open. I curse under my breath. Oak Ridge is a small town, but a single woman living on her own should always keep her door locked.
“Angel? You here?” My booming voice echoes through the entry into the pristine open-plan living space. It smells like a mix of Angelina’s perfume and something clean and fresh.
A low groan reaches my ears, and I follow the sound to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Angie’s sitting on the floor with her back to the clawfoot tub, cradling her head in her hands.
She glances up at me through glassy, bloodshot eyes. “Griff?”
I drop to my knees in front of her, and without a single ounce of forethought, I pull her onto my lap. Ignoring the worry coursing through my veins, I keep my voice low and steady. “What’s wrong?”
She tries to push me away, but I hold her to me. “I’m not letting you go until you talk to me.”
She shakes her head. “Put me down. I probably smell like puke.”
“You could smell like horse shit, and it still wouldn’t bother me one bit.”
A soft laugh bubbles out of her. “Seriously. Put me down. I might throw up on you.”
I put her back where she was and settle opposite her, with my back to the door. My eyes rake over her body from head to toe. She’s pale, and her hair is piled in a messy bun on top of her head, but she’s still as beautiful as ever.
“You called Doc.”
She nods.
“Didn’t think to tell your husband you aren’t feeling well?”
She quirks an eyebrow, pursing her lush lips. “Oh, sorry. Should I check with you first before I get sick next time?”
“You scared the shit out of me, Angel. And why the fuck did you leave your door unlocked?”
She opens her mouth to answer, but what little color she had left drains from her face before she can speak. She makes it to the toilet just in time. I’m at her side in an instant, rubbing my palm up her back in soothing strokes.
She reaches behind her, attempting to swat me away, but her aim is off. “Go away. I don’t need an audience for this.”
She dry heaves a few more times, but I don’t let up.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby girl.”
She takes several deliberate breaths as she rests her head on her forearms. I scan the area for a washcloth to dab on her forehead, but the trash can and the empty boxes discarded there catch my attention.
My chest tightens.
On the vanity, three pregnancy tests are laid out beside the sink.
Threepositivepregnancy tests.
