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“You know that’s not what I’m saying, but I talked to Carrie. She likes Abbie. She loves you. She says that Abbie is good for you if you don’t destroy her before she does her good mojo on you.”
“Carrie doesn’t know me.”
“She knows more than you think she knows. I sure as fuck do.”
“Stop making me the devil that ripped the panties off a fucking angel that I’m about to drag to hell.”
“We both know this thing with her husband—”
“Ex-fucking-husband.”
“Ex-fucking-husband,” he amends, “is going to get dirty. We both know you already got dirty. She’s going to find out.”
“There’s nothing to find out,” I say. “Not a damn thing.”
“You don’t get to be the old you with her if you want her to be a significant part of your life.”
She’s already significant, I think, but I stay on point with what matters in this conversation. “What is your point, brother asshole?”
“We are our father’s sons,” Reid says. “We can go dark. You’ve gone dark before and so have I. We both know you went dark to protect Cat from that stalker.”
“This again?”
“Yes. This again.”
“I handled what you wouldn’t and now you’re flipping it on me?”
“You protected our sister at all costs. All I’m saying is that Carrie changed me and how I handle myself but I had to be willing. If you aren’t willing to change, then you need to walk away from Abbie.”
I look up to find Abbie standing in the hallway, staring at us.
Chapter fifty-eight
Gabe
Abbie stands there and says nothing. She just stares at me and Reid with those big green eyes of hers, red curls teasing the delicate features of her lovely face. She doesn’t question me or him. She doesn’t demand answers. She doesn’t turn and run and thank fuck for that. I need this woman. In every way, in every part of me, I need this woman.
I cross the foyer, close what has become the unbearable space between me and her, stopping in front of her, my hands settling on her waist. “I’m not walking away.”
Her hand settles on my arm, tiny, warm, her touch right in ways no woman ever has been. “Good to know,” she says. “Because I’m done hiding the monsters in the closet. If you can handle mine, I can handle yours.”
She won’t have to, I think. I won’t let that happen. I won’t put that shit on her. I drag her to me. “There are many things I want to say to you right now that are better said alone.” The door opens behind me and Carrie and Reid’s dog darts past us. My sister laughs and Reese’s voice follows.
Abbie laughs, too, and when she looks at me, there is a swell of emotion between us that says more than words and it’s not just about sex. We’re connected. We’re the real deal. I take her hand in mine and we greet Cat and Reese, with conversation veering toward Cat’sCat Does Crimesyndicated column.
“Wait,” Abbie says, as we all walk into the kitchen. “You’reCat Does Crime? Of course you are. I just—you’re so involved in Reese’s work that I didn’t connect the dots. I love your column.”
The two chat about Cat covering Reese’s case in her particular editor voice and a few minutes later, the entire crew of Maxwells is sitting in the living room. Me and Abbie on the couch. Cat and Reese on an oversized chair to our left. My brother and Carrie on the chair across from us. Their adorable dog is at their feet, while the cat remains incognito. I actually miss Dexter right now. In a perfect world, I’d be home right now with my dog and my woman, and past all of this. But life and murder doesn’t happen that easily.
“The good news,” Reese says, loosening his navy striped tie, his jacket left behind in the kitchen. “I believe they’ve homed in on a suspect and if that were either of you, you’d be downtown right now. That being said, they aren’t backing off on official interviews and they’re being cryptic. They won’t say where they sit on any theory about the murder. We’re going into the interviews blind.”
“When?” Abbie asks.
“The day after tomorrow because that’s when I could make it work,” Reese says. “And that gives us tomorrow to do some prep. We aren’t back in court until noon tomorrow. I’d like to spend the morning with you both, prepping.”
“They wouldn’t interview us for no reason,” Abbie says. “I mean, the inside word from Walker was that this is an assassination. Anyone could have ordered it.”
“They’ll look at your phone, electronic communications, and bank records. They’ll ask us for them.” He looks between us. “Either of you have an issue with that?”
