Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) (34 page)

She tiptoed to the bathroom door and paused to listen.

Nothing.

Awe,
crap.
She knew how this was going to play out. “Matthew?” She tapped light knuckles over the door and then waited for a response.

Nothing.

Damn it,
Matthew!
“I’ll just be downstairs. Okay? Love you.”

When she heard the shower turn on, she decided, rather than going in after him and tackling him to the floor, she should probably give him his space, and so she trudged down to the main floor bathroom to freshen up. When she flipped on the light and looked around, she noticed the bathroom was pretty much the
same as every other room in Matthew’s house. All white walls, matching white cultured marble countertops, and beige tiles, with a small set of white towels, folded neatly over a silver towel rack behind her. Geeze, this place could seriously use a woman’s touch.
Wonder how the merc would feel about her showing up with a few gallons of paint and some live plants?
Maybe if she painted the walls gunmetal grey he’d be cool with her taking over?

Allie
splashed some water on her face and tucked in the edges of her very rumpled t-shirt. When she glanced back at herself in the mirror, she cringed.
Why had she been cursed with such pale skin?
She pinched her cheeks to add some color, wishing she had her makeup bag with her, and leaned in to scrutinize her reflection again. Well, she wasn’t going to win Top Model or anything, but it was at least a little better. Though, the Einstein hairdo she was rocking was in desperate need of some TLC. She fished an elastic out of her pocket and finger-combed the wild tresses into submission best she could.

F
eeling a little more human, she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice, impressed that Matthew actually stocked his fridge with something other than beer.

T
he dog-eared, brown, faux-leather handle of her purse slumped over the edge of Matthew’s kitchen island and she walked over to it to check her messages. Then she fished her phone out from between the wads of discarded receipts and gum wrappers.

The battery was dead, and so she had to go fishing once again through her purse for her charger so she could plug the thing in. When she turned the phone on the screen lit up with several early morning, missed phone calls from
Adam, and a few, “where r u,” and “call me ASAP,” text messages.

She quickly dialed him back.

“Allie?” Adam’s voice was higher than normal.

“Hey,
Adam. Sorry. Haven’t been by my phone.” She started walking circles around the kitchen island.

“Where are you? I’ve been trying like crazy to get a hold of you.”

“Oh,” Allie blushed as she looked around Matthew’s house. “I,
erm
, spent the night at Matthew’s last night.”

“I’m at your place now with
Lainie. How far is it to Matthew’s?”

Allie
held the phone a little tighter while warning bells clamored all through her head. “’Bout twenty minutes away. Why? What’s going on?”

“Give
me the address. I’m getting in my truck right now.”

“
Adam, you’re worrying me. Is everything alright?”

“No,
Allie. It’s not.”

Allie
clenched the phone a little tighter. “Mom?” she whispered as her heart crumbled to ash in her chest.

Allie
dropped her phone in her purse like it was a fifty pound stone she could no longer hold, before falling into one of Matthew’s couches. Then she just sat there, the plush cushions rising up to cradle around her while she stared forward, blind to the empty wall ahead.

Mom was dead.

Had to be. She had—

Why else would
Adam insist on seeing Allie in person before he’d tell her anything?
Damn
him. . . She couldn’t stand the waiting.

Damn
her heart, and the empty, gaping hole that was all that remained of it.

D
amn
. . .

She was breathing too hard through her nose, her chest burning for the air she couldn’t get. Her whole body was shaking, trying to shatter apart beneath her.

Oh, no, she was going to be sick.

She looked down and forced her breath to slow, sucked a real good, long breath into her lungs as she dug her nails into her thighs. When her throat tightened up around
the mewl of agony that had just crawled out of it, she dug her nails in harder.

Pain was good.

Centering.

Helped her keep focus
ed on one thing at a time, mainly the crescent-shape gouges she was digging into her skin.

Now all she had to do was to keep from hyperventilating.

The sound of the upstairs bedroom door opening and closing startled her; knocked a stream of tears loose from her eyes so they ran down her face and she had to fight to rein it all in again.

Damn it, she did
not
know for sure that her mom was truly
dead
.

Oh . . .
she crumbled in on herself. Don’t use that word. It was too
real
. And she didn’t know for sure, besides. Her mom could be just getting up to go in the cafeteria for morning oatmeal and juice, or maybe getting her vitals taken since she’d had such a rough day yesterday.

A small voice inside the barren wasteland that was now residing inside her chest whispered,
liar
, and she was forced to add,
you’re fooling yourself, Allie. You
know
.

She cr
umpled up tighter, arms wrapped around her legs as she pressed the side of her cheek into the top of her knees. Hot tears sent warm trickles down the curve of her thigh and onto the floor.

She needed to go up to
Matthew. Tell him his favorite person was coming to invade his house and bring along with him the Angel of Death.

She nodded to herself.

Okay. Get up. Go tell him the sitch.

She’d managed to push up from the couch when pounding footsteps across the second floor preceded
Matthew’s appearance at the top of the stairs. His eyes were wide as they locked onto hers. She just blinked stupidly back.

“
Allie. I thought you’d left.”

“I . . .” she turned, not sure if the tight ex
pression he wore meant he was angry that she was still hanging around, or relieved.

He
padded on light, quick feet down the staircase and over to her. His hair was slicked back from his face, dark brown and still wet from his shower. The smell of clean soap filled the air around him. A towel hung low around his hips.

“
I thought I’d scared you off.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That you’d called a cab or something.” He raked his fingers through his hair again.

“No. I’m here,” she added woodenly.
Obviously, Allie,
she snarked back at herself.

Matthew
’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her face. “You’re grey. What’s wrong?” His hands curled around the nape of her neck and tipped her face up to him. “I was an asshole this morning. I’m sorry. I just . . . freaked.”

“No”—
she shook her head and a fresh rivulet of moisture ran down the side of her cheek —“it’s not that at all. It’s—”

A knock at the front door made her jump.

Shoot.
Adam.

Matthew
twisted toward the sound, still holding Allie in place, and snarled, “Who the
hell
comes to someone’s house at six-thirty in the morning!” But then he turned to Allie, face falling as his anger was replaced with realization. “Oh,” his voice softened, “You
did
call someone to come get you.”

Teeth sank into her quivering bottom lip. “No. That’s
Adam.” Before Matthew could go all caveman—tear the front door off its hinges and beat the ever-loving shit out of him—she hurried on with her explanation. “He’s here about my mom.” Another tear leaked from the corner of her eye. “Oh,
Matthew
, I think . . .” her voice caught and she had to clear it. “I think something bad happened to her.”

“
Baby.” Allie was pulled into a warm, damp chest as strong arms wrapped around her. “I’m sorry. Shit, baby. Real sorry.” A soft thumb ran over her cheek and came away glossy with her tears.

Another knock came from the front door. H
e clutched her hand in his and started towing her with him toward it; carefully, like he was afraid to break her.

When they got to the front room,
Allie dug her heels in and faced off with him. “I don’t know anything.” She looked at the door and her stomach clenched. She couldn’t walk that last bit. It would kill her. “Adam didn’t want to say anything.”

Matthew
’s face filled with sympathy, his eyes mossy green and crinkled up at the corners. “Of course, baby. Let’s just see what’s doin’, huh?” Aware that Allie’s feet were rooted in place and not going anywhere anytime soon, he broke off and headed to a small coat closet. After a few seconds of rummaging through a duffle bag for a pair of running shorts and then slipping into them, he headed for the front door alone.

Allie
just stood there, arms wrapped tight around her hollow chest.

When the door pulled open, there were a
few awkward hellos, and then Adam was ushered into the front room. He looked like hell. All stooped shoulders, and still wearing his scrubs from work. His cheeks seemed to have sunk into his skull.

It was all the confirmation
Allie needed.

Oh . . .
she tried to suck air into a set of lungs that had somehow collapsed in on themselves.
I can’t breathe.
She squeezed her eyes shut and worked on another breath, and another.

Oh
. Oh, no. No . . .

The room was startin
g to spin around her head, little black dots swirled around her vision with a centrifugal force that threatened to suck her under. She watched in horror as her view of Adam and Matthew rushing toward her slid from their worried faces down to their sprinting feet, which were now running sideways up the wall.

“
Allie!” Matthew’s deep voice sounded in her ear. Just as her knees buckled, his arm was there beneath her legs, the other behind her shoulders, lifting her up into his body. Adam’s worried expression filled her vision as Matthew took her over to the couch.

“Mom’s gone, right?” she whispered, “That’s why you’re here. Mom’s dead.”

Adam’s face was ash. “Yeah, Allie girl. Early this morning.”

She took a moment to focus on some more deep breathing
and forced her eyes tight shut; hoping while they were closed this would all go away.

Matthew
’s hand wrapped around hers and she slowly opened them again. Adam was still there, his eyes tight with anxiety and etched in sorrow.

Why?
She asked with her eyes what she could not yet put into words.

How could this happen so quickly? Why
Mary? There were plenty of ladies in their seventies and even eighties who’d managed to stay in the ward for years.
Why
her
mom?

“How . . . how did it happen?” she said, unable to look up at
Adam; to see so much hard reality slicing through his face. Agony flared in her chest and she curled into Matthew.

Adam
’s voice rumbled, “You know she hadn’t been feeling very well yesterday?”

Allie
nodded.

“She’d had heartburn all morning and her back was bothering her, so we kept her in her room to relax. We’d been worried about it.
Took her vitals on and off all damn day. And she was already on blood thinners”—his voice quivered—“We kept checking on her, Allie. We did our best.”

Matthew
’s arm curled a little tighter around Allie’s shoulders. She tried not to be accusatory, but she had to know. “Sybil said it wasn’t anything to worry about.” She couldn’t hide the venom that fell from that sentence.

Adam
cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Allie, truly. We had no idea. I mean, we take precautions for this kind of situation. I know it’s not comforting, but this stuff really does happen all the time. We didn’t want you to freak out if it was nothing. Mary has bad days all the time. It’s part of it.” He shrugged, head bobbing down on his neck. “We thought that was all it was.”

Allie
’s chin fell to her chest. She knew it wasn’t Adam’s, or Sybil’s, fault. Rationally, she knew that. But she didn’t understand. How could this happen? Her teeth clenched together and tears began to silently slip from her eyes. She welcomed their hot sting. It was a release from all the pent-up misery that was desperate to find a way out.