Elle’s sister had made herself scarce for years even though they both lived in the same city and followed each other on Instagram. Elle had tried to keep in touch until she was blue in the face, making sure that Morgan always knew how to find her, but Morgan tended to show up in Elle’s world when she needed something. Twice for bail money and once to pay off the guy Morgan could never seem to shake—her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Lars. She’d “borrowed” money from him and even the fact that Lars and Morgan went back years hadn’t stopped him from threatening to bash in her kneecaps if she didn’t pay up.
That had been two years ago. The guy scared the hell out of Elle—and she didn’t scare easily. Dealing with him was all too reminiscent of her entire childhood with her mom, and she’d promised herself never again. She wouldn’t let herself be dragged into that life she’d run so hard from. “Not buying the ‘catch up’ line,” she said. “You want something.”
Morgan sighed. “Is it so hard to believe that I just wanted to see you?”
“Actually, yes.” Elle had learned a long time ago to listen to her instincts because they were almost always right. “I’m sorry,” she said. And she really was. It’d been a long time since she’d yearned for something, anything, from Morgan. Such as a real sisterly relationship. But fact was fact. If Morgan was here, it was because she needed something. Something that would be costly to Elle, and she’d paid enough. “But I really can’t do this with you right now.”
Morgan’s smile slipped. “Can’t? Or won’t?” She shook her head. “No, you know what? Don’t answer that, I already know.” And with that, she turned and slammed the door behind her.
Elle paced her office for a few minutes, her mind whirling as emotions pummeled her. Regret. Guilt. An overwhelming sense of sadness because Morgan was the only family she had, dammit. She was a crappy sister but without that tenuous connection, she felt . . . alone. Hating herself for it, she yanked the door open again but Morgan was already gone.
She went downstairs to be sure, but when there was no sight of Morgan anywhere, she headed into Tina’s coffee shop and bought an entire bag of muffins, which she took to Willa’s shop.
Pru was in there with Willa, and at the sight of Elle and the bag in her hands, they actually jumped up and down in excitement. Willa had Vinnie, probably babysitting him for Kylie, and the little guy got in on the action, barking so hard his back legs lifted off the ground. Willa came in for a hug and held on tight, and after a brief hesitation, Elle held on right back.
“You’re the best,” Willa said, pulling back with a smile. “You always know what I need.” Her smile faded a little bit. “Hey. What a minute. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Sure,” Willa said. “We could go with that and talk about other stuff, like how hot Chris Evans is or the fact that it’s going to rain later for the millionth time this week. Or better yet, we could discuss those amazing shoes you’ve got on today. But you should know that as soon as you leave, we’re gonna switch the topic to you.”
“Me?” Elle asked.
“Yes. We’ll worry about what’s wrong, if maybe you need help and you’re just being too stubborn to ask. Or . . . you could just spare us the gray hair and tell us.”
“Gray hair? Really?”
“Hey, family worries about family,” Pru said. “And family gives family gray hair.”
They loved her. They really did, and at that realization, it all spilled right out of her. “My sister’s in town,” she heard herself say. “And that means bad shit is coming along right behind her as always, like category five hurricane bad shit. Also, I’m never going gray, not even for you two—at least not that anyone will ever know.”
Pru smiled and took her hand. “You do know that when this category five storm hits, your real sisters will be at your back, right?”
Willa took her other hand and squeezed, nodding her agreement with Pru’s words, her eyes solemn. “Always,” she said. “Through sickness, gray hair, and health, babe.”
Elle’s throat went tight, too tight to talk. Because really, she wasn’t alone at all. She’d wanted family and she had it. Her friends were her family, more so than any blood relation had ever been.
For the rest of the day, Elle struggled with what she’d done, turning Morgan away crisis unheard. And yes, she was one hundred percent sure there’d been some sort of crisis. She felt like such a jerk.
She also struggled with something else. She needed to apologize to Archer. Not for the email. Oh hell, no way was she going to apologize for her feelings, especially as in the moment they’d been genuine. But she’d B&E’d his office and had used one of his men to do it.
Not cool of her.
And then there was the other thing—she’d been watching his office all day, wanting to get eyes on him and make sure he was really okay after being stabbed. Eyes only. No mouth. Under absolutely no circumstances was she going to let her mouth get involved.
She’d given him up and she was sticking by that decision.
But he’d stayed away from his office. This wasn’t all that uncommon. He spent whole weeks out in the field on jobs. In his opinion, the office was an evil necessity. So she gave it up and tried to get the scoop from Mollie.
“He’s doing better,” Mollie said. “Not that he’d admit he wasn’t in top form all this week.”
“So he’s on a job.”
“Of course,” Mollie said. “That man doesn’t take time off for, and I’ll quote him here, ‘a little scratch.’ Luckily he’s just doing surveillance.”
“Where?” Elle asked.
“Sorry, honey.” Mollie shook her head. “I can’t give out his location.”
“He shouldn’t be working at all, should he?”
“No. The doctor doesn’t want him working for at least another week, which of course he thinks is ridiculous. The guys would’ve handled today’s surveillance but he refused help. He’s not into letting people take care of him, which is silly since the man’s done nothing but take care of all of us like we’re his family.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’d really like to tell you where he’s at since you’re probably the only one of all of us who can improve his mood, but—”
“Oh trust me,” Elle said, “I don’t improve his mood.”
Mollie gave her a get-real look. “Are you seriously going to stand in my reception room in that amazing dress—and I’m going to need deets on where you got that—and look me right in the eyes and tell me you don’t know what kind of influence you have on that man?”
Elle opened her mouth and then shut it. Her phone rang and she’d never been so happy for the excuse to step out into the hallway to answer it.
The number wasn’t one she recognized and when she answered, she knew she’d never heard the voice before either.
“Morgan,” a man’s gruff voice said.
Elle narrowed her eyes. “No. You’ve got the wrong number—”
“Elle, then.”
She stilled. “Who is this?”
But he’d disconnected. “Dammit.” She turned to walk down the hallway and nearly plowed into Joe. “Hey,” she said. “Just who I wanted to see.”
“No,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
He blew out a sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face, looking pained. “Look, Elle, you’re hot as hell and I really like you. But on top of all that, boss man’s in a bitch of a mood today, okay? I mean I know you’d improve it but—”
“Okay, you’re the second person to say that to me. It’s not true.”