Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(61)

Hayes took out his key and let her into the apartment. Brynn glanced up and for some reason was surprised to see it looked exactly the same as when she’d rushed out of here hours ago.

“Did you get dinner?” she asked Hayes.

“No, ma’am.”

She gritted her teeth at the “ma’am” but didn’t comment. “Who else is on tonight?”

“Trent.”

Disappointment welled inside her as she remembered Erik was off. He always seemed to give the late-night shifts to everyone else.

Brynn dropped her purse on the coffee table. “Help yourself to whatever,” she told him. “I’m going to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am. Good night.”

Brynn swallowed a bitchy comment as she walked to her bedroom.

You get snippy when you’re upset.

Erik was right. And she was feeling snippy in the extreme as she closed herself in her room and kicked off her sandals. Not bothering to turn on a light, she sank onto her bed and stared at the glowing phone in her hand. She debated calling Faith back. Reggie’s assistant was keeping the rest of the firm updated on Ross’s condition. Brynn had told Faith that Ross had pulled through the surgery. But she hadn’t told her about the grave look on the surgeon’s face when he’d finally emerged from the OR and given his prognosis to Ross’s sister, who’d driven up from Austin.

“The next twelve hours are critical,” the doctor had informed her. “We’ll know more in the morning.”

Brynn put her phone on the nightstand. She didn’t have the heart to talk to Faith right now. She’d already spent an hour on the phone with Liz from the hospital. The conversation had felt cathartic at the time. But now the same storm of emotions that had churned through her in the waiting room was back again. Brynn closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

Her phone pinged. Cursing, she grabbed it off the nightstand and read yet another message from her sister: You okay? You want to talk?

No, she wasn’t okay, and no, she didn’t want to talk. Home now and going 2 bed, she replied. Call u tomorrow.

She stared down at her phone, and a dull ache expanded in her chest. She hated when she got this way—lonely but antisocial. She needed to talk to someone, but she wanted everyone to leave her alone. She’d been this way since she could remember, and it didn’t make any sense. And the worst part was that her sister understood and no doubt knew that she was sitting here staring at her phone on the verge of tears.

She crossed the darkened room and flipped on the bathroom light. After splashing water on her face, she glanced in the mirror and was annoyed to discover she looked every bit as stressed and sleep-deprived as she felt. She patted her face dry with a towel, then traded the jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn to the hospital for her silky black PJs.

The door to the apartment opened and closed, and voices sounded in the hallway. Brynn went still.

Erik?

She listened intently. It was definitely Erik out there talking to Hayes. Had he stopped by to check on her? Anxiety filled her at the thought of seeing him right now. Her nerves were raw, her emotions right on the surface.

The front door opened and closed again.

Brynn stood there a full two minutes debating what to do. Her stomach growled at her, reminding her she hadn’t eaten, and the tray of sandwiches she’d passed up at the courthouse was a distant memory.

“Screw it,” she muttered.

She crept into the hallway. The living room was dark except for the flicker of the television. Someone was here, but was it Erik or Hayes?

She ventured into the living room and found Erik in front of the TV, his arm stretched over the back of the sofa. Instead of the bloodstained clothes he’d had on at the hospital, he now wore a gray T-shirt and jeans.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

She walked into the kitchen.

“Thought you went to bed,” he said.

She didn’t answer. He was watching her, but she couldn’t read the look on his face.

She opened the fridge. “I thought you were off now.”

“I traded shifts with Trent.”

“Why?” She turned to look at him.

“He needed a break.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah.”

She turned and surveyed the contents of the fridge. Her stomach started to flutter, and suddenly food was the last thing she wanted.

“You sure?” she asked.

Erik walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter beside her. Up close, she saw that his hair was damp, so evidently he’d showered when he stopped by his hotel. “Yeah, I’m sure. Why?”

“I don’t know.” She took out a bottle of wine. “I saw him at the hospital, and he looked sort of shell-shocked.”

He folded his arms over his chest and gazed down at her. “How are you?”

“Me? Fine.”

But she got a hot, tight feeling in the back of her throat. She took a glass from the cabinet and poured some wine.

“Brynn.”

“What?”

He stepped closer. “How are you, really?”

“Fine. I told you.” She plunked the bottle on the counter. “Want a glass?”

“No.”

Of course not. No alcohol. No caffeine. He was such a Boy Scout all the time—no temptations, no cravings, no distractions.