she’d laid out for herself—he got why she needed the routine and structure. He really did.
Even when her mom had been planning her entire life down to the nth degree, Abby’s life had been sheer chaos. Early morning calls, the insane hours, not to mention her mother herself. It only made sense that Abby wanted to settle down and just have something . . . normal.
But sometimes he thought she’d gone a little too crazy with it. She was so focused on her plan, she never let herself live.
Abby hadn’t ever really had a chance to live. That bat-shit crazy mother of hers had seen to that. Back when they’d been doing the show, they’d worked their asses off, that was a fact, but he’d still gotten to have a life. His mom and dad had been damned determined about that. Hell, he suspected most of Abby’s good memories came from the times she’d spent with him and his folks. And there hadn’t been enough of those times, he knew.
The van for the catering business was in the drive as well. As he jogged up the steps, he debated about letting himself in. He’d had a key pretty much since the day he’d arrived in town, but that didn’t mean he went walking in whenever. Was now a good time to use it?
Muttering under his breath, he rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the door. “Okay. Knock first,” he told himself. That was what he’d do. If he knocked first, and she didn’t open, he’d let himself in.
* * *
As the third knock echoed through her empty house, Abigale pressed her face into the pillow. She didn’t need to look to know who it was, and she didn’t need to ask.
There was only one person who’d be there just then.
Zach.
She loved Zach dearly but she just couldn’t handle him right now. She couldn’t handle anything right now. She could barely handle the silence of the house. Thinking. Breathing.
Just existing hurt right now.
“Damn it, Abs, if you don’t open the fucking door, I’m going to let myself in,” he shouted. If she hadn’t left her window open a little, she never would have heard him.
She closed her eyes. “Just go away, Zach.”
“You’ve got thirty seconds, sugar!”
Groaning, she hugged the pillow tight and she huddled in on herself. He wasn’t going to go away, she knew that. But if she got up and tried to go down there to let him in, she’d just shatter. Or explode. She was barely staying in one piece as it was.
He had a damn key. He could use it. Assuming he remembered it. The bum barely even remembered to keep his phone charged. He didn’t like to check his e-mail. The ache in her chest spread and the sobs she’d been fighting crept further up her throat as she heard the beep from her alarm.
“Time’s up, Abs,” Zach called from downstairs.
* * *
He reset the alarm and locked the door. The quiet of the house gutted him. Abby didn’t do quiet. She loved music . . . it didn’t have to be loud or anything, but she loved music and if she was home, it was almost always playing.
Silence greeted him. Cold, brittle silence.
His first stop was the kitchen. When she was sad, happy, pissed, whatever, Abby cooked. That was just her thing. Like he went to his sketchbook and worked on new designs. But the kitchen was empty, silent.
The ache inside him spread just a little more. He paused by the hook just inside the door and touched the apron hanging there. Simple and efficient. Just like her. Sexy as hell. He had it bad. Groaning, he curled his hand into a fist and left the kitchen before she found him pawing the damned apron.
He’d managed to hide how he felt for more than seventeen years. Granted, it had started out as a bad crush that he’d kept hidden and it had just grown and grown. Still, it was what it was and he wasn’t going to let any clues slip now, of all days. Maybe later—
Stop, Barnes. Find her. Help fix it. Then worry about your own shit.
Being there for Abby had been all he’d ever wanted to do with his life. It wasn’t going to change now.
Since he was there, he checked out back, but the pretty little space she’d designed for herself was empty as well. She wasn’t in the library and as he moved through the painfully quiet