19. abbi
ABBI
Slowly, I lower myself onto the couch and wait to see if they show anything that may explain Nix’s cryptic phone call.
The screen fills with shaky video, obviously shot on someone’s phone.
Mr. and Mrs. B’s store fills the screen.
The paint’s a little duller, but it looks exactly the same.
The dull bang of a gunshot rings out; police and bystanders duck behind their haphazardly parked vehicles.
The camera shakes as the person filming obviously changes position; their panting breaths can clearly be heard on the recording.
It’s quiet for a long time. And my mind races as to what could possibly be happening inside. Are Mr. and Mrs. B okay? Do they still own the store? It still looks the same from the outside, but that doesn’t mean it’s still their store. They’d have to be in their seventies by now.
Angry shouts break the tense silence, and then another gunshot pierces the air, and I jump.
I swear my heart leaps out of my chest. I raise my hand to my chest as I watch the scene unfold and listen to screams from either the people inside or outside—it’s difficult to tell.
The police have their weapons trained on the entrance to the store, but not a single one of them dares to make a move.
Why aren’t they doing anything? The people inside could be hurt, and they’re doing nothing.
A young man rushes out of the store, waving his arms and shouting something, then the police storm inside. The footage ends, and the news anchor fills the screen once again.
“Thank you to Stef Granger for providing us with that footage. We’ll keep you up-to-date as more news comes to hand. A2Z News will return after this short break.”
Oh my gosh! I hope Mr. and Mrs. B are okay.
Frustration builds that I still don’t know why Nix has been held up. Nervous energy thrums through my body as I wait for him to arrive. I warm up our dinner and take the time to make a sticky toffee pudding for dessert for something to do. Something that will keep my mind busy.
The sound of the garage door vibrates through the mudroom, and I suck in a sharp breath.
My stomach flips and relief courses through my body that my husband is home safe and sound.
With hurried steps, I make my way to the door separating the house from the garage and fling it open.
My knees almost buckle, and my breath whooshes out when my eyes land on my husband.
I rush forward and open his door before he can move, flinging my arms around his neck. The longer he took to come home, the more my mind spun with what-ifs. “You’re okay,” I whisper brokenly.
“I’m sorry about tonight, Abs. I had plans to surprise you, but they got derailed.” He brushes my hair—which I’m sure is a frazzled mess—away from my face.
I kiss his cheek and study him closely, noting the stiffness in his posture as if he’s waiting for me to be angry with him. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home safe. But I’ll need you to tell me what happened. Okay?” Will he tell me or will he shut me out again?
He smiles softly. “Okay. But I need a shower first.”
“Sure. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“I’ll be quick.” He kisses me, then I move out of the way so he can climb out of his truck and head inside.
I busy myself with mindless tasks, my heart still thumping like a drum in my chest as if it hasn’t gotten the memo that Nix is safe.
He’s fine. No injuries. Maybe I’ll put on a load of laundry.
I shove the clothes into the machine. He’s fine.
He’s here. He’s safe. I press the button to start the cycle. He’s fine. He’s alive and safe.
I find Nix in the kitchen leaning against the island counter, drinking a beer.
He’s changed into sweats, his hair still wet, probably in too much of a rush to dry it properly.
He eyes me with wariness, and I step past him to pull the sticky toffee pudding out of the oven and place it on the wooden mat on the counter.
“What happened?” I ask softly, with my back to him.
I take a deep breath, drawing in necessary oxygen as the fear I experienced earlier washes through me once again.
I place my hands on the counter and drop my head between my shoulders.
“I’ve been so scared.” Tears sting the backs of my eyes because even though I know he’s safe, my mind still goes to dark places where maybe things didn’t work out so well.
And while it wasn’t that long ago that I asked for a divorce, I don’t want him to die.
I don’t want to live in a world without Nix.
I don’t want our children to live in a world without their father.
Warm hands slide across my shoulders and around my front, and he tugs my body back against his.
Secure in his embrace, the fear from earlier flees my body.
I sink against him, allowing his warmth to soak into me.
His lips press against my hair, and then I feel his warm breath.
“I’m so sorry, Abs. I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Or maybe I was meant to be there all along.
I don’t know how the world works anymore. ”
Turning me in the circle of his arms, he drops his forehead to mine and his hands to my waist. “I had important plans to surprise you at work so I could take you to dinner. Then I found myself caught up in an impossible situation.”
He explains everything that happened and how he was responsible for disarming the perpetrator. My heart leaps into my throat as he describes the events that led to him fighting with the gunman.
“I saw that on the news. Are Mr. and Mrs. B okay?” I reach around to the back of his neck, scraping my nails through the short hair at his nape.
“They’re okay. A little shaken.”
“I’m torn between being furious with you for putting your life at risk and being proud of you for your heroism,” I murmur.
He presses his forehead harder against mine and closes his eyes, as if he’s in pain. “I wasn’t being heroic. I was pissed at the delay for purely selfish reasons. I just wanted to get to you as well as keep Mr. and Mrs. B safe. I’m so sorry.”
I smile softly. “I’m just thankful you’re okay and everything worked out. I can’t believe they still own that store. They must be in their seventies by now.” I pull back a little. “Are you sure they’re okay?”
The front door slams, startling us both.
Between one breath and the next, Prue stands in the kitchen doorway, looking like a madwoman.
When her eyes land on Nix, her face crumples and she bursts into tears.
“Oh, thank god you’re okay. I was so worried when I saw you coming out of the store the gunman held up on the news.
” They must have shown more footage after I turned off the TV.
She lurches forward and Nix catches her easily as she collapses in his arms. Her body shakes with loud sobs, and my heart cracks for the fear and worry she’s experienced.
When I look up from the pair who have my heart twisted in knots, I find Luke leaning against the kitchen opening. He smiles softly. “We came as soon as we saw the news.”
“Thanks, Luke.”
He nods at me, then returns his attention to Prue. “She was terrified.”
Nix looks down at our daughter with guilt engraved deep into his features. “I’m sorry, Sweet Pea.”
She pulls back enough so she can look up at the man who means everything to her. “What happened? Why were you there?”
He chuckles darkly. “I was just explaining why to your mom. I was going to surprise her with a dinner date. I stopped by to say hello to old friends of ours and grab your mom one of her favorite pies. I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He explains everything to our daughter and I can’t help but notice the fatigue weighing down his shoulders.
Prue looks at her father with utter disbelief. “And if you’d been shot?” she snaps. “You’d never be able to take Mom out to dinner again.” She slaps his chest. “Don’t do that again! Ever!” she shouts.
Nix tugs her back into his embrace, trapping her arms between them. “I promise I won’t do it again. I wasn’t thinking.” He looks at me over the top of our daughter’s head. “I don’t want to leave you guys. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“You’d better,” she mumbles against his chest.
I remember that we have our dinner in the warmer. “Have you guys eaten yet?”
“Yeah, we ate ages ago,” she tells me. “We’ll get out of your hair now that we know Dad’s okay.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I made a sticky toffee pudding, if you guys want to eat that while we have our dinner.”
Prue and Luke share a look, and they both grin. “We won’t say no to your pudding.”
I lift my chin toward the counter. “Help yourselves.”
We all sit to eat, and I explain to Prue how we know the owners of the corner store, reminding her of the times we visited when she was younger. Nix interrupts with his own anecdotes and then tells us how they’ve been held at gunpoint before.
Prue drops her spoon into her bowl. “Shit, I thought I was having a bad day. That’s happened to them before and they’re still there?” Her voice drips with disbelief. “I would have sold the first time it happened.”
“I guess, but they like being part of the community.” He sips his drink, then swallows, his eyebrows dipping low over his eyes. “Why did you have a bad day?”
She shrugs. “Seems trivial now, but I lost my job. Work’s been slow, and I’m the last crew member on, so Trevor had to fire me.”
Nix places his fork down and focuses on our daughter. “You can work for me. I want to increase the number of security installations instead of limiting what I can do. If you take charge of that side of the business, it will free me up to do more management-type stuff.”
“That’s a great idea,” I interject. It will take the pressure off Nix and maybe he’ll get to bed at a decent time.
Prue’s eyes grow wide. “Really. You’d let me do that?”
“You’re a trained electrician. Of course I would. It would really help me. You know how much I’ve been struggling with the workload.”