“No,” Abby whispered back and then continued, “we’ll talk later.”
Jenny opened her mouth to speak but Abby’s mobile, lying on the counter, started ringing.
“I’ll finish this,” Jenny said, taking the cocktail shaker from Abby and Abby moved across the kitchen and grabbed her mobile.
The display said, “Unknown Caller” and Abby was disappointed it wasn’t Cash. She was beginning to get worried.
She slid it open and put it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Is this Abigail Butler?” an efficient female voice asked.
“Yes,” Abby replied, ready to launch into her kind, but firm and very short “no thank you” speech that she delivered to all telephone marketers.
Then the female voice spoke and what she said opened a hole under Abby through which Abby fell, plummeting uncontrollably toward the painfully blazing molten core at the centre of the earth.
“This is Emma at Mr. Fraser’s offices. There’s been a car accident and Mr. Fraser’s at hospital.”
“What?” Abby breathed, clutching the phone to her ear so tightly, pain shot through her fingers and it was a small miracle the phone didn’t fuse to her ear.
“A car accident. Mr. Fraser’s at hospital,” Emma repeated.
“What hospital?” Abby asked sharply, her voice overloud, cracking through the air like a gunshot and the hum of conversation in the room silenced.
“Royal United,” Emma answered then went on speaking but Abby didn’t listen, she slid her phone shut with a snap, dropped it on the counter and shot to the oven, turning it off. She didn’t look at anyone as she ran to her purse and grabbed it.
“Cash has been in a car accident. He’s at the hospital. I’ve got to go,” she announced, hearing the gasps and murmurings of surprise but she kept going, mind blank, her body’s functions performed through an acute but focused panic.
She moved swiftly, taking the stairs two at a time. In the distance, she heard her mobile ring again but she didn’t go back for it.
She was in the foyer, her coat in the crook of her arm, when she was swung back with a firm hand on her arm.
It was Jenny.
“Abby –” Jenny began.
Abby yanked her arm free. “I’ve got to go.”
“Abigail!” Mrs. Truman barked.
Abby swung to the older woman and screamed, “I’ve got to go!”
Mrs. Truman wasn’t trying to detain her and she wasn’t wasting any time. She had her purse and was putting on her coat as she started to issue orders.
To Jenny she said, “You drive. Abigail’s car is right outside. I’m coming with you. I know where Royal United is.”
She shoved through Jenny and Abby and pulled open the door, looking back.
“Nicola, blow out the candles and make sure the house is safe. We’ll meet you there.”
Then she leaned forward, grabbed Abby’s hand and tugged her gently out the door to the car.
Abby gave Jenny the keys, threw her coat through the door and got in the backseat of her car, buckling up. Mrs. Truman sat up front with Jenny. She listened as Mrs. Truman softly gave directions and Jenny drove safely, efficiently, but very quickly.
Abby sat in the back, her body feeling strangely numb considering she was breathing heavily but her mind was flashing from thought-to-thought.
Or, more accurately, image-to-image, sound-to-sound and feeling-to-feeling.
She saw Cash sitting at the table in the pub the first time she laid eyes him, so handsome he took her breath away at the same time he scared her so much, she almost turned around and left.
She heard Cash’s deep, rich laughter that first time in his car after he met Mrs. Truman.
She heard his beautiful voice on the phone telling her he was thinking about their first, full-on kiss.
She felt his warm, strong hand on her neck.
She saw his eyes when he’d warned her she’d made a promise he was going to make her keep.
She saw him casually tossing her shoes across the room.
She felt the strange, moving, tender touch of his lips last night.
She heard his voice telling her they had all the time in the world.
Her hands came up and curled around the back of Jenny’s seat and she pleaded urgently, “Jenny, go faster.”
Jenny didn’t take her eyes from the road as she muttered softly, “I’ll get you there, honey.”
Mrs. Truman twisted toward Abby and her face, usually composed, sometimes angry, other times grouchy, was now filled with unhidden concern.
“Abigail, breathe,” Mrs. Truman ordered gently.
Abby’s eyes shifted to the older woman, her breath coming in short pants. “I am.”
Mrs. Truman shook her head. “Deep breaths, dear,” when Abby didn’t obey, Mrs. Truman repeated, “Deeply, Abby. Breathe deeply.”
Abby nodded and took in a deep, shuddering breath. Mrs. Truman watched her as she took in another one then another. Only when Abby’s breathing became controlled did Mrs. Truman turn back to the road and continue with her directions.
What felt like a year later, Jenny turned into the A&E entrance of Royal United Hospital and Abby released her seatbelt in preparation for exiting the car.
When she straightened from the belt, out the front window she saw Cash standing with a man outside the doors to A&E.
Standing. Eyes open. Body intact. There was no blood. There were no cuts. No gaping wounds. No bandages. No slings. No limbs in casts. No crutches.
Just tall, handsome, beautiful, breathing Cash.
Abby threw open the door the minute Jenny came to a halt. She shot out of the car and ran on her high-heeled shoes like she’d been told she had only one second to reach him, to get her hands on him or he’d disappear forever.
The man he was with saw her, his face registered surprise and Cash’s glance followed his. Abby watched Cash’s brows draw together as he saw her. He started approaching but stopped because Abby didn’t slow. He only had a moment to brace before she hit him, full-body, full-velocity, full-weight. On impact, his arms came around her and he went back on a foot.
“Abby, what on –” he started but Abby shoved her face in his neck and wrapped her arms so tightly around him she felt her muscles strain with the effort to hold on.
She felt Cash’s arms tighten as his voice murmured in her ear, “Darling, what’s happened?”
Abby didn’t get a chance to respond, not that she would have. Her mind was blank and she had no faculties left to her but the ability to hold on tight.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Mrs. Truman demanded from somewhere behind Abby.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Abby heard Cash reply.
“She got a call. She was told you were in a car accident and at the hospital,” Jenny informed Cash and at her words Cash’s body went still but his arms constricted.
Then she heard him mutter a terse, “Fuck,” before he hesitated and she actually felt him forcing his body to relax before he called, “Abby.”
Abby didn’t move.
One of his arms still tight around her waist, the other hand came into her hair as he urged, “Darling, look at me.”
Abby still didn’t move.
He gave her hair a gentle tug. “Abby.”
Her head came back, she looked at him and the minute her eyes locked on his, hers filled with tears.
He saw it, his face went soft and he muttered, “Darling.”
“You’re all right,” she whispered, her voice sounding husky and choked but filled with blissful relief.
“I’m fine,” he murmured, his hand going from her hair to stroke her spine. “I wasn’t in an accident. Moira was.”
“Moira, who’s Moira?” Mrs. Truman wanted to know but Cash didn’t answer, his eyes were on Abby.