Can't Let Go - By Michelle Brewer Page 0,12

be able to live a very comfortable life.

“I want to concentrate on my career. I have goals, Abigail. You would understand that if you were actually working at a respectable company.” Abby sighed then, rolling her eyes and pushing herself off the table. She walked passed him and threw her carton into the garbage, no longer hungry, before turning to the sink and washing her hands.

“Ever stop to think that maybe my goals don’t include my profession?” She snapped before turning her back and exiting the kitchen. He always had a way of doing this—of making her feel badly about her hopes and dreams for the future, whether because she prioritized family above her career, or because her career was nothing more than a joke to him. Her future was never quite as bright as his.

Abby’s mind turned to her earlier thought of checking their voicemail and she settled into the plush couch cushions before reaching over and grabbing the phone from it’s cradle. She dialed the number to enter their answering service and skipped over a few messages. She was about to skip over the last when she heard a name she recognized.

“Hello, this is Sheriff Winslow of Scotts County in Kentucky. I’m calling in an attempt to reach a Miss Abigail Lewis. Please call as soon as you receive this message.” She scribbled down the number he gave before quickly hanging up the phone, her heart beginning to hammer loudly in her chest.

Blake and Hayley lived in Scotts County.

Why would the Sheriff be calling her?

A range of possibilities raced through her mind—she was, after all, listed as Hayley’s next of kin outside of Blake. She wondered what kind of trouble they’d gotten themselves into—they’d probably broken some silly law and had been taken into custody and needed bailing out or something.

She imagined that conversation with Eric and almost smiled, knowing what a kick Hayley would get out of it.

But as she dialed the number, something told her it was nothing quite so simple as that. A woman answered the phone and Abby introduced herself. “Hi, this is Abby Lewis—I got a call from the Sheriff—”

“Oh, just one moment, I’ll patch you right through.” A moment later, the phone was ringing again and she waited for several moments before someone answered. It was the same voice she’d heard in the message—the voice of an older man, with that slight southern accent. She introduced herself again. “Miss Lewis, I just have a few questions. What is your relation to Hayley Walker?”

“Well—I—she’s my best friend; we’ve known each other practically since birth.”

“She has no other family that we could contact?”

“No, I’m the closest thing she has—what is this about?” Her heart was beginning to thud so loudly in her chest, she almost couldn’t hear the man on the other end of the phone. “Is she in some sort of trouble?”

“I hate to have to do this over the phone, Miss Lewis.” She didn’t even have a moment to prepare herself for what was to follow, her mind racing as she tried to figure it out before he could say. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

“An accident?” They were fine—she knew it—they were fine—

“Yes. I’m so sorry, Miss Lewis—but there were no survivors.”

She felt her lungs empty of oxygen, felt the room sway, felt her heart stop.

“We’ve already made positive identifications, but we thought we should wait until the next of kin was reached before we did anything more.”

“Hayley’s…gone?” She could barely form the words.

“I’m afraid so, Miss.”

“And Blake?”

“There were no survivors.” He repeated and her body suddenly filled with an undeniable ache, unrelenting and powerful.

“I’ll be on the next flight out.”

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” He paused. “I really am very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said, though she was truly unaware anymore of what he was saying. Images of she and Hayley from their entire lives were flashing before her eyes—prancing around in two-piece bathing suits when they were eight, mooning over boys when they were fourteen, shopping for prom dresses, the many nights they met Blake and Logan at the bar, the night of Hayley’s wedding, the last time she’d seen her—waving goodbye at the airport.

She was overwhelmed by the sudden emptiness that ripped through her.

Hayley was gone.

She was dead.

Chapter Two

Abby sat staring straight ahead for several long minutes, not even noticing the buzz of the busy signal coming from the phone at her ear.

“Look, Abigail—you know I hate arguing about this—” She heard the voice, but it