Emotions morphed into a physical ache, her heart literally hurting. “I miss him so much.”
Cannon looped his arms around her from behind and put his chin atop her head. “Want Armie and me to go through his things? Other than looking for a key, we won’t intrude.”
She gave it some thought, but eventually everything in the room would have to be stored anyway. It was her duty to do it.
She put her hands over his, leaned into him. “Thank you, but I can help.”
“All right.” He gave her a squeeze and stepped away. “Where should we start?”
Considering it, she glanced over at Armie...and found him studying the bedside lamp. “Armie?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I vote we start right here.” He lifted the old-fashioned two-bulb lamp and showed the key hanging from the pull switch. Beneath the lamp, stuffed up into the brass base, was a small square of paper.
Wow. Could it really be that easy?
Excitement filled the air. They were each supercurious as to what they’d find.
Nudging her forward, Cannon said, “You should do the honors.”
Hesitantly, she retrieved the paper, unfolded it with Armie and Cannon looking over her shoulder, and sure enough, the pass code was written in her grandfather’s bold script.
Just then, the ringing of Armie’s cell phone broke the silence. It startled her enough that Yvette nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Sorry,” Armie said and retrieved the phone from his pocket. He answered without checking the caller ID, saying, “Hello?” while watching Cannon unhook the key. “Yeah, this is Armie Jacobson. What can I do for you?”
Whoever greeted him sent his brows climbing high. “Matter of fact, you’re in luck, because he’s right here.” He held out the phone to Cannon. “For you. The dipshit ex.”
In counterpart to Armie, Cannon’s brows came down in a dark scowl. “How the hell does he have your number?”
“He called the rec center looking for you, and they put him through to me.”
Yvette grabbed his wrist before he could take the phone. She put it on speaker and then handed it to him.
Cannon accepted it, saying with a mean inflection, “Heath. How the hell are you?”
Yvette slowly sank down to sit on the side of the bed.
Still holding the key, Cannon joined her on one side.
Armie sat on the other.
Though her return to Ohio had been filled with turmoil, in that moment she felt such amazing peace. She had so much more than many people ever hoped to get from life. She had a home. She had amazing friends. She’d been loved by her grandfather.
And at least for now, she had Cannon.
Leaning into Armie, she gave him a quick hug. He faltered, then shoulder bumped her in a comfortable way.
Sighing, she settled up against Cannon. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer still.
After what felt like forever, Heath said, “My f**king arm was broke,” and he sounded like a petulant boy.
Sandwiched between such awesome men—men of honor and character—how could she help but pity Heath?
Cannon’s smile widened. “Not broke, pal. I just dislocated your shoulder.”
“Same thing.”
“I’m guessing you’ve never had a broken bone, right? But hey, come on back around and I can show you the difference.”
Through strained breathing, Heath said, “I want to talk to Yvette.”
“No. Anything else?”
“Someone broke into the house where she’s staying.”
Her heart jumping into a gallop, Yvette jerked. Cannon squeezed her to keep her quiet.
As if it didn’t matter, he asked, “What do you know of that?”
“I know it wasn’t me.”
Though he’d just come to the same conclusion, Cannon shrugged. “It fits your chickenshit M.O.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“How do you even know where she’s staying?”
More breathing. “Soon as I got to town I made it my business to know everything about her.” He blurted, “To protect her!”
“From who? You’re the one bothering her.”
“Obviously I’m not the only one!”
Not the only one—so did that mean Heath would admit he was a problem?
Cannon had his arm hugged around her, his hand at her waist. And now Armie patted her knee.
Did they both think she needed to be cautioned again to be silent?
She let out a slow breath and smiled to let them know she wasn’t an idiot.
“Who else is there, Heath?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m warning you.”
“Warning me?”
“Letting you know, so you can keep her safe!” In a bid to reclaim his temper, he sucked in air, once, twice. “I went by the house just to...check on her.”
“Uh-huh.”
God, they’d have to let Margaret know. Or maybe she even needed to stay elsewhere for a while.
“Why would I break in?” Heath challenged. And then, voice raised, “I want Yvette, her, flesh and blood. Not her stuff.”
Cannon pushed to his feet, muscles all along his arms and shoulders now knotted tight. “Come near her again,” he stated in a deadly whisper, “and I’ll do more than jack up your f**king arm.”
The silence stretched out until Yvette thought Heath had hung up.
Cannon, apparently, didn’t. “I’ve reset my own shoulder a few times, Heath. Did you manage it?”
Cannon looped his arms around her from behind and put his chin atop her head. “Want Armie and me to go through his things? Other than looking for a key, we won’t intrude.”
She gave it some thought, but eventually everything in the room would have to be stored anyway. It was her duty to do it.
She put her hands over his, leaned into him. “Thank you, but I can help.”
“All right.” He gave her a squeeze and stepped away. “Where should we start?”
Considering it, she glanced over at Armie...and found him studying the bedside lamp. “Armie?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I vote we start right here.” He lifted the old-fashioned two-bulb lamp and showed the key hanging from the pull switch. Beneath the lamp, stuffed up into the brass base, was a small square of paper.
Wow. Could it really be that easy?
Excitement filled the air. They were each supercurious as to what they’d find.
Nudging her forward, Cannon said, “You should do the honors.”
Hesitantly, she retrieved the paper, unfolded it with Armie and Cannon looking over her shoulder, and sure enough, the pass code was written in her grandfather’s bold script.
Just then, the ringing of Armie’s cell phone broke the silence. It startled her enough that Yvette nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Sorry,” Armie said and retrieved the phone from his pocket. He answered without checking the caller ID, saying, “Hello?” while watching Cannon unhook the key. “Yeah, this is Armie Jacobson. What can I do for you?”
Whoever greeted him sent his brows climbing high. “Matter of fact, you’re in luck, because he’s right here.” He held out the phone to Cannon. “For you. The dipshit ex.”
In counterpart to Armie, Cannon’s brows came down in a dark scowl. “How the hell does he have your number?”
“He called the rec center looking for you, and they put him through to me.”
Yvette grabbed his wrist before he could take the phone. She put it on speaker and then handed it to him.
Cannon accepted it, saying with a mean inflection, “Heath. How the hell are you?”
Yvette slowly sank down to sit on the side of the bed.
Still holding the key, Cannon joined her on one side.
Armie sat on the other.
Though her return to Ohio had been filled with turmoil, in that moment she felt such amazing peace. She had so much more than many people ever hoped to get from life. She had a home. She had amazing friends. She’d been loved by her grandfather.
And at least for now, she had Cannon.
Leaning into Armie, she gave him a quick hug. He faltered, then shoulder bumped her in a comfortable way.
Sighing, she settled up against Cannon. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer still.
After what felt like forever, Heath said, “My f**king arm was broke,” and he sounded like a petulant boy.
Sandwiched between such awesome men—men of honor and character—how could she help but pity Heath?
Cannon’s smile widened. “Not broke, pal. I just dislocated your shoulder.”
“Same thing.”
“I’m guessing you’ve never had a broken bone, right? But hey, come on back around and I can show you the difference.”
Through strained breathing, Heath said, “I want to talk to Yvette.”
“No. Anything else?”
“Someone broke into the house where she’s staying.”
Her heart jumping into a gallop, Yvette jerked. Cannon squeezed her to keep her quiet.
As if it didn’t matter, he asked, “What do you know of that?”
“I know it wasn’t me.”
Though he’d just come to the same conclusion, Cannon shrugged. “It fits your chickenshit M.O.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“How do you even know where she’s staying?”
More breathing. “Soon as I got to town I made it my business to know everything about her.” He blurted, “To protect her!”
“From who? You’re the one bothering her.”
“Obviously I’m not the only one!”
Not the only one—so did that mean Heath would admit he was a problem?
Cannon had his arm hugged around her, his hand at her waist. And now Armie patted her knee.
Did they both think she needed to be cautioned again to be silent?
She let out a slow breath and smiled to let them know she wasn’t an idiot.
“Who else is there, Heath?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m warning you.”
“Warning me?”
“Letting you know, so you can keep her safe!” In a bid to reclaim his temper, he sucked in air, once, twice. “I went by the house just to...check on her.”
“Uh-huh.”
God, they’d have to let Margaret know. Or maybe she even needed to stay elsewhere for a while.
“Why would I break in?” Heath challenged. And then, voice raised, “I want Yvette, her, flesh and blood. Not her stuff.”
Cannon pushed to his feet, muscles all along his arms and shoulders now knotted tight. “Come near her again,” he stated in a deadly whisper, “and I’ll do more than jack up your f**king arm.”
The silence stretched out until Yvette thought Heath had hung up.
Cannon, apparently, didn’t. “I’ve reset my own shoulder a few times, Heath. Did you manage it?”
