safe.”
“ Why don’t you come to my place? You could stay with us for a while. I’ll even have Bertha set up a second room as a studio so you can paint.”
The first impulse was to say no. Half a dozen excuses sprang to her tongue. She swallowed them.
If she could somehow go… She would see Maddie every single day. And she would never be alone in her father’s eight-room penthouse that overlooked the art museum. She wouldn’t have to jump at every noise the wind made in the trees. Her father would be there in the evenings and at night. During the day, she would have Bertha and Maddie. Maybe she wouldn’t have another spell if she wasn’t alone.
But if she gave up her hard-won independence, she wasn’t sure if she could regain it again. She needed to fight the anxiety, not give in to it, or her life would become smaller and smaller.
That was the truth, and she knew it, but she also knew that she was using that truth as an excuse because she was terrified of driving into the city. If she were well, going to stay at her father’s for a few days would be no big deal.
Then Maddie came on the phone and said, “Mom, Grandpa said you could come here.” The little girl squealed. “Can you come today?”
Her sweet voice reached inside Ashley and got hold of her heart. She drew a deep breath, pushing down on the nausea. “How about tomorrow?” Her forehead broke out in cold sweat as she added, “First, I have to pack.”
“ She’s coming! She’s coming!” Maddie’s voice wobbled as she probably jumped around with excitement. “Grandpa says we’ll be expecting you. We’ll be right here.”
A black car shot down the road, slowed as it reached the end of her driveway, turned, its headlights cutting through the dark. Ashley’s stomach dropped as she recognized Jack Sullivan’s Crown Victoria. Her headache kicked up a notch.
“ I better go and find some bags.” She smacked a kiss into the phone. “Tell Grandpa I’ll see you both tomorrow, okay?”
“ I can’t wait to tell Bertha. I’ll help her make a room for you next to mine.”
“ I love you, Peanut.” She hung up the phone as her body screamed, invisible powers pulling her toward the loft. She needed to paint, get the darkness out, and get it over with. But first, she had to get rid of the detective.
She unlocked the door and yanked it open before he had a chance to ring the doorbell, the last thing her blinding headache needed.
“ Miss Price.” He gave a curt nod, his expression closed, his tall frame and his fighter’s stance more than a little intimidating.
His face really did have some interesting lines, especially the strong jaw. And that cerulean gaze too drew the eye. She imagined that another woman, one he wasn’t trying to pin any crimes on, would find his masculine energy attractive. She had, in her dreams.
But not now. Now she was just pissed at him.
“ You had no right to talk to my father.”
He cocked his head as he watched her. “Interesting that you wouldn’t share something as big as this with him. Why is that?”
“ I didn’t want to worry him.”
“ You hide too much,” he observed coldly.
Part of her wanted to slink away, to hide from him. But she was done accepting defeat. She would face down her demons and Jack Sullivan today. Tomorrow, she would go and see her daughter.
He towered on her doorstep, ready to go at her.
She hadn’t played much sports since college, but she figured the best defense still had to be a good offense. She stuck her chin out as she said, “I want my paintings back.”
As much as she hated those monstrosities, she hated someone else having them even more. If he hadn’t shown them to anyone yet, she wanted to keep it that way.
He raised an eyebrow, looking utterly unimpressed with her newfound assertiveness as he pushed by her. “I brought you something from your daughter.” He handed her a plastic box and a piece of paper she hadn’t even seen him holding.
She
“ Why don’t you come to my place? You could stay with us for a while. I’ll even have Bertha set up a second room as a studio so you can paint.”
The first impulse was to say no. Half a dozen excuses sprang to her tongue. She swallowed them.
If she could somehow go… She would see Maddie every single day. And she would never be alone in her father’s eight-room penthouse that overlooked the art museum. She wouldn’t have to jump at every noise the wind made in the trees. Her father would be there in the evenings and at night. During the day, she would have Bertha and Maddie. Maybe she wouldn’t have another spell if she wasn’t alone.
But if she gave up her hard-won independence, she wasn’t sure if she could regain it again. She needed to fight the anxiety, not give in to it, or her life would become smaller and smaller.
That was the truth, and she knew it, but she also knew that she was using that truth as an excuse because she was terrified of driving into the city. If she were well, going to stay at her father’s for a few days would be no big deal.
Then Maddie came on the phone and said, “Mom, Grandpa said you could come here.” The little girl squealed. “Can you come today?”
Her sweet voice reached inside Ashley and got hold of her heart. She drew a deep breath, pushing down on the nausea. “How about tomorrow?” Her forehead broke out in cold sweat as she added, “First, I have to pack.”
“ She’s coming! She’s coming!” Maddie’s voice wobbled as she probably jumped around with excitement. “Grandpa says we’ll be expecting you. We’ll be right here.”
A black car shot down the road, slowed as it reached the end of her driveway, turned, its headlights cutting through the dark. Ashley’s stomach dropped as she recognized Jack Sullivan’s Crown Victoria. Her headache kicked up a notch.
“ I better go and find some bags.” She smacked a kiss into the phone. “Tell Grandpa I’ll see you both tomorrow, okay?”
“ I can’t wait to tell Bertha. I’ll help her make a room for you next to mine.”
“ I love you, Peanut.” She hung up the phone as her body screamed, invisible powers pulling her toward the loft. She needed to paint, get the darkness out, and get it over with. But first, she had to get rid of the detective.
She unlocked the door and yanked it open before he had a chance to ring the doorbell, the last thing her blinding headache needed.
“ Miss Price.” He gave a curt nod, his expression closed, his tall frame and his fighter’s stance more than a little intimidating.
His face really did have some interesting lines, especially the strong jaw. And that cerulean gaze too drew the eye. She imagined that another woman, one he wasn’t trying to pin any crimes on, would find his masculine energy attractive. She had, in her dreams.
But not now. Now she was just pissed at him.
“ You had no right to talk to my father.”
He cocked his head as he watched her. “Interesting that you wouldn’t share something as big as this with him. Why is that?”
“ I didn’t want to worry him.”
“ You hide too much,” he observed coldly.
Part of her wanted to slink away, to hide from him. But she was done accepting defeat. She would face down her demons and Jack Sullivan today. Tomorrow, she would go and see her daughter.
He towered on her doorstep, ready to go at her.
She hadn’t played much sports since college, but she figured the best defense still had to be a good offense. She stuck her chin out as she said, “I want my paintings back.”
As much as she hated those monstrosities, she hated someone else having them even more. If he hadn’t shown them to anyone yet, she wanted to keep it that way.
He raised an eyebrow, looking utterly unimpressed with her newfound assertiveness as he pushed by her. “I brought you something from your daughter.” He handed her a plastic box and a piece of paper she hadn’t even seen him holding.
She
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