Page 74 of A First Sight

“Shit,” I breathed. “And you think Dale was behind that, too?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Luckily, there wasn’t an actual bomb. But I remembered how worried you sounded last night and thought that maybe something happened. I needed to see that you were all right.”

“You could’ve called, asked me on the phone if I was okay.”

“Aye.” He reached into a pocket and held out a set of keys and a piece of paper. “But I couldn’t give you these over the phone.”

I furrowed my brow. “Keys?”

“I own a cabin upstate,” he said. “It’s nice. The address and security code for the alarm is on the note. I already called the caretakers to have the place ready. It’s yours for however long you need it. Take anyone you want with you. Carson, London, whoever.”

My fingers trembled as I took the keys from him. I couldn’t believe it.

“Anything you need is already there. If not, just call the caretakers. They’ll take care of you.”

“Drake…” I stopped, no idea what else to say.

“It’s all right, lass.” His voice softened. “I won’t bother you again.”

He raised his hand, and for a moment, I held my breath, sure he was going to touch me. Then he dropped his hand and swallowed hard.

“Take care of yourself, Maggie, please.”

And then, as I watched, he walked away, leaving me staring after him, more confused than ever.

* * *

The next morning,I sighed as I poured myself a second cup of coffee. I felt awful. All night, I’d tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about Drake.

The paper with the cabin’s address was in my wallet, and the keys were in my purse. I didn’t want to risk Carson seeing them and ask questions. That wasnota conversation I wanted to have with my fiercely protective big brother.

I sipped my coffee, letting the bitter taste and the caffeine wake me up.

“Morning,” Carson mumbled as he came into the kitchen.

Wearing only his boxers and with his copper curls in complete disarray, he looked more like the teenage boy who would stumble downstairs on weekend mornings when we were kids, than a thirty-year-old man with an outstanding career as a fashion designer.

I smiled, the fond memories of our childhood chasing away some of the gloom hanging over me. Carson and Cory were only a few years older than me. They were the ones my friends crushed on.

“How did things go last night?” Carson asked after downing half a cup of coffee in one huge gulp.

“Pretty good,” I said, deflecting. “What time did you get in?”

“Two or three.” He scratched the back of his head. “There’s this one dress giving me some problems, and it’s making me crazy. I’m at the point where I need to give it a rest, work on something else, and then come back to it.”

Carson’s phone went off with London’s ringtone, and he hurried toward his room to answer it. London being up this early was strange enough, but calling rather than texting said something was urgent.

I trailed after him, reaching the doorway to his room.

“London, wha–” The word cut off abruptly, and the color drained from his face.

My stomach dropped.

“We’re on our way.” Carson ended the call and turned toward me. “Someone broke into London’s apartment last night.”

My hands went to my mouth.

“She’s okay,” he quickly added. “She went out with friends after their show. Luckily, she stayed overnight at a friend's house.”

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