talking so much as looks at you sideways, you call Finn. He’ll come get her. I’m leaving first thing in the morning. I’d go right now, but it’s a six-hour trip, and by the time I got there you’d both be asleep anyway.”
“I hate that you have to cut your trip short.”
“I don’t. I need to be there, to take care of both of you. I’ll be home by noon. And I’m serious when I say call Finn if you need him. He won’t hesitate to come over, and he doesn’t live far.”
“I know.” It’s a whisper. God, I want to be there more than I want to breathe.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, but, Carter, we need to figure this out. She’s miserable, and it’s not just a random mood. I can’t get her to talk to me. I don’t know what’s happened.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I assure us both. “Thank you, for everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She pauses, and I think she’s going to say something else, but she doesn’t. “Good night.”
“Good night, darling.”
She ends the call, and I immediately call Finn, filling him in on this evening’s events.
“Jesus, Carter. What the hell is up her ass?”
“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. I’ll be home tomorrow, but in the meantime, I told Nora to call you if Gabby tries anything else.”
“I can go get her now regardless,” he offers.
“It sounds like she’s holed up in her room. I suspect that’s where she’ll stay until I get there. But if you’d check in with Nora, I’d appreciate it.”
“You got it,” he says without hesitation, and I’m grateful for him and the entire Cavanaugh family all over again. “Anything you need, you know that.”
“I know, and I’m grateful. See you soon.”
I hang up, open my computer, and send off emails to our clients here in Sacramento, letting them know I’ve had a family emergency at home and will be leaving for New York first thing in the morning. Then I call Maggie, wincing when I see what time it is on the East Coast.
“Hello, dear,” she says. She sounds wide awake. I just need to vent, to get Maggie’s insight. She spends as much time with Gabby as I do, maybe more. I hope she can shed some light on this abrupt change of mood in Gabby.
“Hey. I need to talk. About Gabby.”
“I’m all ears.”
Chapter Fifteen
~Nora~
“I hate you!” Gabby screams before slamming her bedroom door in my face. I tip my forehead against the smooth wood and sigh heavily.
There is not enough wine in the world for this.
“Gabby, you have to give me your phone.”
The door is yanked open and Gabby throws her phone down the hallway, glares at me, and slams the door again.
Awesome.
Thankfully, the phone didn’t break. I pick it up on my way to the kitchen, where I pour the biggest glass of wine I’ve ever seen, and go into the living room. I set Gabby’s phone on the coffee table next to my own and sit back with another heavy sigh.
I’ve had some challenging days in my thirty-four years of life. I’ve been yelled at. I’ve been the one yelling.
But I don’t think anything in the world compares to the venom a twelve-year-old can spew in your face.
Maybe I should call my own mother and apologize for once being twelve myself.
That would shock the hell out of her.
I smirk and take another sip of wine then notice Gabby’s phone light up with a notification.
I reach for it and feel my eyebrows hit my hairline. It’s a notification from Instagram.
Insta-fucking-gram.
The same Instagram that her father forbade her from downloading onto her phone.
“Oh, Gabs. What are you doing?”
I try to open the app, but her phone is locked. Tapping in the first four digits of her birthday opens it easily enough, and I start to comb through her phone.
Starting with the ’gram.
“Jesus.”
The photos she’s posted are harmless enough. Selfies of herself in the car, at Maggie’s, at home. Photos of food, and shoes. It seems she really loves food.
There are even photos from London’s show.
Nothing bad, thank God.
But when I open her DMs, I’m absolutely freaking horrified.
There are some messages from kids she knows at school, mostly just asking her what she’s doing, if she knew that so-and-so was dating so-and-so. But then there are the messages from grown-ass men.
I set my wine aside and lean forward, gobbling up every word.
There have to be ten or more of them.
Different men, contacting Gabby, whose account