Page 12 of Grant’s Flame

Okay…so not who I was expecting, and I was instantly beating myself up for not looking at the device before answering. I definitely did not want to talk to this woman right now.

“How can I help you, Abbi?” I winced at the abrupt shift of my voice, but no way could I muster affection for the person responsible for what I saw Rio having to endure just one day before. Granted, it wasn’t the facility specifically. It was imprisoning her in the first place. That was the last thing she needed. Anyone who knew her would know that. I still couldn’t understand how Abbigail thought it was the right thing to do.

Regardless of my attitude, her inquisition started straight away. “I’m assuming you know where Rio is? Or you’re with her currently?” She only paused long enough to inhale and then continued with her questions. “The facility that I checked her into for psychiatric evaluation and care said she was carried out by a very tall, blond, model-looking man. I’m guessing that was you?”

“Like I asked, Abbi, how can I help you?” My game plan was to give her the least amount of information possible. Rio was a capable adult and was not violating the law or a doctor’s orders by leaving that facility.

Abbi sighed loud enough for me to hear this time. “I’m worried about her, Grant,” she said softly.

“Okay. Thanks for calling.”

“Grant! Wait. Don’t hang up.”

Her rushed plea torpedoed my intention of ending the call. Damn it. These women were making me soft.

“Please just tell me where you are. Can you just tell me so I can stop worrying? What are your plans?”

I gritted my jaw. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“But you realize she really needs help, right? She was completely manic the other day at the Abstract kitchen. I’ve never seen her act that way. Honestly, it really scared me. That’s the only reason I reached out for help. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Grant! You have to believe me!” The predictable tear spigot turned on, and Abbi’s watery sniffles accompanied her pleas as the subject had progressively shifted focus to her. Rio had complained about both traits of Abbi’s before, and now I was getting a front-row seat to the Abbigail show.

Boy, she and Sebastian were made for one another.

“Actually, Abbigail, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Grant—”

“You’re about to give birth.” I was diplomatic but determined, which was going to prevail over her stubbornness and tears. “Maybe it’s best that you concentrate on all of that right now and just trust that Rio is in good hands.”

A long pause. I even wondered if we’d gotten disconnected, but I didn’t try to confirm or hail her.

“Grant, don’t be angry,” she finally said with the smallest voice.

“Abs, I’m not angry.” I laughed and knew I sounded as incensed as I felt. “I’m baffled. How you thought caging her in somewhere was in her best interest—I mean, you say you love her and want what’s best for her, yet you do something that is so at odds with her psychological and emotional well-being. Your actions make your words sound more like hollow lip service than anything else.”

Again with the long pause, but I knew the connection was fine. And hell, if it wasn’t? This conversation was over a while back, as far as I was concerned.

“Well…” she stuttered for a reply. “Well.” She sighed heavily, having a tough time with the next part. “Then I made a mistake. Will you just let me talk to her? Please, Grant, is she there?” she asked, and I could hear the waterworks gaining momentum in her shaky voice.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I replied resolutely.

“Grant! She’s my sister. You can’t decide who she talks to and who she doesn’t.”

Matter-of-factly I replied, “It appears I can.” I let that statement hang heavy in the air before going for the finishing move that would secure my spot at the wobbly-legged card table with all the other naughty kids for every holiday meal at Casa Shark, from now until eternity.

Ha! As if I’d ever be invited back to that house!

“Also, Abbigail, she was your sister-in-law, not your sister. But I suppose, technically, she isn’t even that anymore, is she? I think it’s best you worry about your own life for a while. I don’t think you’ve got what it takes to be making decisions in Rio’s. Good luck with everything, though.”

After disconnecting the call, I said to the blank phone screen, “You’re going to need it,” and made my way back to the stateroom. I flopped down and tossed my phone onto the bed. If I were back up on deck, I’d throw the thing overboard after the past two conversations I’d had on the damn device.

“Hey, Tree. What’s up?” Rio asked from behind me, startling me out of my fantasy.

I turned to find her standing in the doorway, drying her short hair with a towel. She’d found the fluffy terry robe on the back of the bathroom door and was swaddled in the fresh, white cotton.