Page 94 of The Fix

I huff, my hands dropping back to my sides, another wave of guilt rushing over me that has me pacing along the path next to him. “Shit.”

“Here,” Leo interrupts, and I spin to find his phone held out. “It’s already dialing. Might as well take it.”

I snag the device the moment the call connects, stepping just far enough away from him to get some privacy.

“Leo, I swear to freaking God, if you’re calling me just to tell me about your trip, I’m gonna commit murder. You’ll be victim number one.”

The sound of Anna’s voice has my lungs inflating for what feels like the first time in months.

“Murder, Leo. Freaking Murder.”

I chuckle darkly, and the line goes silent.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Anna

The silence that greets me is so unexpected that I feel like I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak.

If I do, then this becomes real, and reality and I aren’t on speaking terms right now.

No way.

I would recognize that sound, that husky chuckle almost anywhere, even if it hadn’t shot straight to my groin and made my heart ache simultaneously the second it came over the line.

But it can’t be …

No. It won’t be is more appropriate, because I will not fall into the trap all over again. I will not dive headfirst into the emotional damage set to take me out. I won’t fall prey to the antics of a spoiled and damaged rock star.

“Hey, Mama.”

And when he breathes that crap over the line—clear, sultry, and sober—my poor heart weeps.

“Toby,” I breathe out on a weighted whisper, my middle all twisted up. Torn between what I want and what I know that I need. “I—”

“Stay.”

That one word could have enough power over me had he uttered them months ago. Before I put myself through the hell of finally shutting out every piece of me that wants him. Misses him.

But the way he says it into the phone …

Like it’s everything he could need wrapped up in one giant pleading demand.

For me.

“I can’t,” I mumble into the phone, the backs of my eyes burning.

“Try.”

I swallow.

“For me, Anna.”

I choke back a sob.

“Please.”

Breath ragged, heart pounding—yet somehow breaking at the same time—I lick my dried lips and switch my grip on the phone.

---