Chance (The Fosters of New York 1)

"The job comes with a shitload of perks." He scratches his chin. "The salary is insane too."

I'm genuinely happy for him. He's been through the emotional wringer this past year and if anyone deserves to find happiness, it's Graham. "You're not going to forget about me now that you'll be hanging out with Broadway folks, will you?"

"I'm right there whenever you need me, Row." He reaches across the table to pat the top of my hand. "If you call, I'll come running."

***

I adjust the pillows behind my head as I try to type out a text message to Asher while I'm on my side in my bed.

I'm getting worried. Call or text. Please.

I stare at the phone for what feels like ten minutes waiting for a response. I get absolutely nothing back in return. I slide my thumb over the screen. I open the clock app and then wince when I realize the current time in Brussels. If Asher has already made his way over there, he's fast asleep at this point. Badgering him with another call or another text won't help the situation. I know that he'll call when he's ready and until then, I have to stay clear minded and focused on my life.

I close the app and open my messages back up again. I reread the one I received earlier from Tyler Monroe, the man Ivy's intent on setting me up with. It's nothing more than a cordial greeting asking how I am. I start to type a response before I delete it.

My heart may be ready to venture out into the world again, but my mind isn't. I'm too tired to start up a text conversation with a potential date. I need rest and the only way I'm going to find that is if I shut off my mind, put my phone on the bedside table and drift off into a deep sleep.

Chapter 17

I'm startled awake by a series of loud thumps. I reach for my phone wondering if I somehow managed to change the ring tone on it again. I scan the screen and see absolutely nothing other than that it's barely past seven in the morning.

It's Saturday. I don't jump from my bed as soon as the sun rises once the weekend arrives. I take my time getting my day started. I lounge in bed, sometimes reading the news on my tablet before I even think about what I want to have for breakfast. If I make it into the shower by noon, I know I'm on track for a good day. If I've had a bad week, I may hide between my sheets for the entire day, ordering in food and watching movies. Today, I need to stop by the office, so I should be thanking whatever the hell that noise was that jarred me from my dreams of a tropical island and a shirtless man bringing me an endless supply of petty drinks with umbrellas.

The thumps are there again and I realize they're coming from my apartment door. I close my eyes hoping that Graham heard it first and he's at the door, chasing away whoever thinks it's acceptable to bang on a door this early in the day.

He's not and the next louder, and more persistence, knocks are proof of that. I pull a white tank top over my head and a slip into a pair of white lace panties. I have no intention of opening the door. It's thin enough that I can carry on a conversation with whoever is on the other side. All I really need to do is tell them to scram. I'm still sleepy and craving the comfort of my bed, so I'm going to make short work of this distraction.

"What is it?" I call through the crack between the door and the doorjamb. "Who is there?"

"It's me." His voice is low and quiet. "Open the door."

I peer through the cracked glass peek hole in the door. It's Caleb. His hands are resting on the door. His shirt is a twisted and he hasn't shaved in days. He looks like hell. My hand hovers over the doorknob.

"What do you want, Caleb?" I volley back hoping that I won't have to talk face-to-face to him right now. "You woke me up."

"Bell." His voice cracks slightly. "God, I need to talk to you. Please just open it."

My breath catches at the sound of my nickname. I haven't heard it flow from his lips in years. I doubt that his voice had even gone through its adolescent change when he last said it. My lips quiver as I answer back. "What's wrong?"

"Open the door." He taps his hand softly against the wood. "Open the fucking door. Please, just do it."

I reach down and twist the deadbolt lock so it pops open. I grasp the door handle before I turn it, pulling the door open.

I have no time to react before he slides into my apartment, yanks me into his arms and pulls me tightly into his chest.

"Caleb," I whisper into the fabric of his blue dress shirt. "What? What is it?"

He doesn't answer. His body only jerks slightly as he works to control his emotions. I try to break free to look at his face but he molds my body into his.

"Just tell me," I say calmly even though my heart is racing. "I can help if you tell me."

His body tenses slightly before he grabs my shoulders and pushes himself back. I close my eyes briefly before I look up into his.

"Bell." His voice lowers as he brushes his lips against my forehead. "Christ, please."

"What?" My bottom lip trembles. "Just say it."

"It's Asher." His eyes fill with tears. "I'm so sorry."