* * *
RYDER KICKED THE blankets off and sat up. His phone was ringing. His pulse was racing ninety-to-nothing, his heart in his throat.
“Yeah?” he grumbled.
“Ryder?” It was Annabeth.
“What’s wrong?” He rubbed a hand over his face, glancing at the alarm clock. It was midnight. “Everything okay?” Which was a stupid question. She wouldn’t be calling if it was.
“No.” She sounded strange, tense.
He froze, waiting for more information. “Annabeth?”
“Can you come over?” Her voice broke. “Now, please?”
He stood, pulling on his jeans. “On my way.”
“Thanks,” she murmured before hanging up.
He tucked the phone in his pocket, hurriedly tugging on a black T-shirt and leather jacket, and hopping into his boots as he headed out the door. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, clearing his mind, before starting his motorcycle and heading toward Annabeth’s place.
He wasn’t a worrier by nature—he’d always sort of rolled with what life gave him. But the panic in Annabeth’s voice had triggered an immediate response. She didn’t scare easy. Or get rattled. Annabeth was solid, grounded...
She was home, not at the hospital—which meant she, Cody and Flo weren’t injured or sick. Which was good. Still, she had called him, so there was something seriously wrong. He parked in her driveway. Her living room and kitchen windows were illuminated.
The door opened before he had time to knock. Annabeth stood just inside, pale, with red-rimmed eyes. He stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him. “Hi.”
She nodded, sniffing. “Can you...can you sit down? I need to talk...we need to talk.”
“Everyone’s okay?” he asked, adrenaline and anxiety coursing through his veins.
She had a hard time meeting his gaze. “Cody and Flo are fine.” Her hazel eyes finally met his. “I’m sorry I woke you. And called you over...”
“It’s fine.” He rubbed her arms, his eyes searching hers. “All good.”
She nodded, waiting for him to sit before she took a deep breath. “I know it’s late... Actually I didn’t realize how late it was.” She frowned. “My mind wouldn’t shut off. And I knew it couldn’t wait. I mean, it could, but it couldn’t—you know?”
No, he didn’t know.
“Let me start by saying, I know you. I have no intention of attempting to change who you are.” She was fidgeting, twisting her hands in front of her. “But what sort of person would I be if I didn’t tell you?”
Ryder leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. What the hell was she talking about? “Annabeth—”
“I have two charts,” she said, holding up one finger before hurrying into her small kitchen. She returned with two poster boards. Each had some sort of graph, with different color tabs and her clean script in the margins. “Option A or Option B. I’ve mapped out how much time we have, how we can handle this, who needs to be involved... I’m thinking the fewer the better.”
Ryder glanced at the two boards, but it didn’t clear anything up. “Annabeth—”
“Hold your questions,” she interrupted. “Or I’ll never get it all out.”
He ran a hand over his face, sighed and sat back in the chair. Sure, why not? Not like he had someplace to be—like bed. Sleeping. “Shoot.”
“Okay.” She nodded, smiling tightly. “Okay. So, we’re six weeks or so in. There’s another couple of months before it goes public.” She held up the two posters. “Option A is with you temporar
ily, Option B is without.” She shrugged. “John mentioned something about a Dallas job when I picked up Lady Blue? Is that happening?”
He nodded, slowly answering, “It’s a done deal.”
“Well, congratulations.” She scanned her posters, putting the Option A poster behind the couch. “I guess that’s the question then. I’m sure you’re excited to get out of Stonewall Crossing. I can do this on my own. No need to mess things up for you.” She sat opposite him, gripping her poster.