Broken Pride (Black Angel MC Book 3) by R.A. Black

Author:R.A. Black [Black, R.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

24

Sophie

“We’ll just have to reschedule.” Pursing my lips thinly, I glanced over at Tyler passed out on the sofa through narrowed eyes. My heart throbbed painfully for him, but the speaker against my ear crackled with a faint hum of agreement to split my attention. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll set something up, if that works for you.”

“Yeah, not a problem. An emergency is an emergency. Display cases aren’t anything special. There’s no rush, Ms. Montgomery.” Saying our goodbyes, I hung up to slip my phone into the back pocket of my borrowed sweat pants and sighed heavily. Turning on my bare heel, a certain relief flooded my system now that I wasn’t trying to do more than one thing at a time. Pulling my hair back into a high bun, I winced when my trembling fingers snapped the band against my hand, but the pain died almost instantly.

Poor Tyler. He felt like he had to do everything alone; he put on this face and never let anyone see underneath it. Wandering into the living room, I touched the cold paper towels I’d slapped on his face, and goosebumps raced up my arm. He didn’t move, hiccupped when he breathed, and his sweating still hadn’t stopped.

It’d been well over an hour since I found Tyler passed out in his garage- very well over an hour since he threw up all over me and then passed out a second time.

I didn’t even know what happened, but I was fairly certain a trip the hospital was unnecessary. Although, a trip to a grief counselor wasn’t out of the question.

“Tyler…” Stroking his hair back, I frowned sadly when a tear trailed down onto the damp towel draped on his cheek. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

But he didn’t answer, too lost in his own painful memories, and I withdrew to wander back to the kitchen. Tyler’s home was neat- almost as if it’d barely been lived in- and I opened the refrigerator to find it completely empty. There wasn’t even a beer on the shelf, and my frown twisted ugly. His stovetop looked like it’d never suffered over boiling water, and I shut the fridge to open the oven that didn’t have a speck of crumb or heat residue.

Drumming my nails on the counter, I reached up to open a cabinet to find it empty.

Empty.

Empty.

Everything in this kitchen was empty.

“That’s what I’ll do, I guess.” Rubbing my face as I pulled my phone out of the deep pocket once again to open my Lists. “What do I want to make…?”

What’s something moms make? My mother made mac-n-cheese once a week; it was her specialty. Mac-n-cheese and pork chops, with carrots or green beans. I need to call her and ask for her recipe.

Navigating through my phone, I twisted to cast Tyler a glance, and my chest tightened under one of his borrowed t-shirts. The line rang once, twice, before a faint click stole my attention, and I leaned on the counter to stare out the window above to the sink.

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