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Phoebe looked over at me from the front seat as we drove. “How many games before the holiday?”
“Two. Both in town. Tonight, Wednesday night, and then the Saturday after Thanksgiving.”
She nodded slowly. “I do need to go back. To New York. There’s this story I’ve been working on and I have some new leads I need to check out.”
I narrowed my eyes. “They can’t wait on their article on mascara or something?”
She snickered. “I can’t believe you know what mascara is. No, the other story. The one I’m doing on my own.”
Molly stuck her head over the bench seat. “What’s it about?”
Phoebe lit up and it was like someone flipped her animation switch. Her hands started gesturing, her eyes sparkled, and she was in her element. “You see, there have been these suicides with models in New York City the last two months. Five models, that I know of, have swan-dived off their balconies to their death. But it doesn’t make any sense, right, because they were all up-and-comers. They had finally made it and they just jump off the balcony? Suspicious, right?”
Molly was entranced. “Totally.”
With wild hand gestures, Phoebe continued. “Well, this morning I got another tidbit. One that means I have a lot of new people to find and interview.”
Molly wrinkled her nose. “So, you’re leaving?”
She lifted one shoulder. “Not right away, but sooner than I planned.”
When I pulled into Ilya’s driveway, I helped Molly get down from the truck and walked her to the door.
Before she went inside, she turned. “You can’t let her leave.”
I scrubbed at my beard. “I have to.”
She nodded. “No, you have to talk to her and convince her she wants to stay here with us. I have to help her.”
I stepped closer to her and leaned down. “Molls, you can’t be your usual way with her. She isn’t like the guys.”
Molly shook her head a little and looked into the distance. “No, but someone needs to break through, call her on her bullshit, and make her see what’s right in front of her. She has value. She has to see it or she’ll never be happy. And she deserves a happy ending.”
The lump in my throat kept me from answering. I gave her a curt nod and watched her go inside. It wasn’t until I was back in the truck that it felt like I could swallow again.
Glancing over at Phoebe, I saw her quirked eyebrow. “What was that about?”
I twisted my leather band and got us headed back for home. “Just Molls giving me some advice for tonight.” Maybe we could just get a little sleep and then things would feel better.
In the glow of the dash lights, I saw Phoebe reach her hand out and set it in on the console between us. I set my hand over hers, only needing one hand to steer anyway.
“Ransom? It’s not that I want to leave, but this is important.”
When I pulled into the driveway, I left my bag in the truck and helped Phoebe down. I took her hand again and led her into the house. I wouldn’t argue with her.
Inside, we shucked our coats and toed off our boots.
I pointed to the kitchen. “Want more coffee?”
She shook her head, not raising it to look at me. “Would you hold me?”
Pulling her to the bedroom she’d been using, I pulled off my hoodie and my jeans until I was just in boxers and pulled back the covers. She pulled off her sweatshirt and jeans until she was just in a t-shirt and panties. Since we were both so hot-blooded, we always slept like this. Almost every night since we became friends, she crept through my window and got into bed with me from middle school until she moved away. After she moved to New York, I often wondered how she was able to sleep at all. I never slept as well without her.
Moving the covers aside, she slipped in beside me curling up on my chest.
I pulled her a little closer. “Do you value my opinion?”
She pushed on my chest a little and looked up at me. “Of course.”
