Page 51 of His Heart

I sat up straight, my food forgotten, all my instincts on high alert. Something was very wrong. “Brooke, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“No.”

I shook my head at Charlie. She’s not okay.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I shouldn’t have called you,” she said.

“Yes, you should have,” I said, worried she was going to hang up. “It’s cool. What happened? Are you hurt?”

Her voice was so small. “Yes.”

I nodded at Charlie. He pulled out his wallet and tossed some money on the table as we both got up.

“Where are you?” I asked. We were already out the door, on the way to my car. “Don’t hang up, Brooke. Stay with me. Just tell me where you are.”

We got in the car. Fastened seat belts. Started the engine.

“I’m… um…”

God, Brooke, don’t hang up.

“It’s a restaurant,” she said. “Sunrise Diner.”

I repeated it and Charlie punched it into his phone.

“Got it,” he said.

I put Brooke on speaker and pulled out onto the street. “Brooke, hang in there, okay? Don’t move. I’m on my way.”

“Okay.”

The relief in her voice hit me square in the chest. This girl was scared. Not just scared—terrified. It made me wonder what we were about to walk into. But there was no way I could leave this alone. Not when it was her.

I followed the navigation across town, my back tense. “You still with me?”

“Yes,” she said.

It took ten minutes to get there. I kept talking to Brooke, making sure she stayed on the line, and hoped we were going to the right place.

Charlie pointed to a rundown building with a broken neon sign. “That it?”

“Yeah.” I found a parking spot out front. “Brooke, we’re here.”

She hung up, so I pocketed my phone. The bell on the door jingled when we walked in. A woman with orange-red hair and bright pink lipstick stood next to a booth toward the back, her arms crossed. Her name tag said Betty Jean. She eyed us with open suspicion as we walked toward her.

Of course, Charlie and I were big guys. We probably looked pretty intimidating.

Brooke was curled up in the booth, in the corner by the wall. Her hair hung over her face.

“Hey,” I said, crouching down and resting my hands on the end of the table. “What happened?”

She looked up and my heart squeezed. Charlie muttered, “Holy shit,” behind me. She had the beginnings of a black eye and one side of her mouth was swollen. Anger flooded through me. Someone had hit her. I’d fucking kill them.

Her eyes darted from me to Betty Jean. “I’m sorry. He broke my phone. I had your number in my pocket.”

“Yeah, good,” I said. “I’m glad you called me.”

---