Page 77 of Broken Omega

I’m the one who messed up our best chance of setting her free.

“I should have let River drive us out of there.”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t think she was ready, anyway.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“It’s fate, Frost. If the moment was right, we would have gotten her out. She knows we’ll be waiting for the next time. And we won’t mess it up when they call us out there again. She’ll be ready. We’ll be ready. It’ll happen.”

I shake my head at him. “What if it doesn’t?”

He lets out a sigh. “What if it does? It will. Trust me.”

I’d rather have a guarantee, but if I need to trust someone, it has to be Donnie. “Fine, but we’re coming up with a backup plan if she doesn’t get us back there within a couple of weeks.”

He beams at me, clearly pleased that I’ve come around. He pushes away from the wall.

“Now excuse me while I hit the little boy’s room. I don’t want River waking up thinking I’ve left him to sleep on his own.”

He heads to the bathroom, and I go into my bedroom.

There’s no way in hell I’m going to sleep, but I guess I should at least try.

BROOKE

Iwake up shivering. The water I soaked in last night is cold now and I don’t know how the hell I managed to pass out in the tub. I take in a deep breath as I pull myself up and out of the water.

Well, my perfume is completely gone, thank God.

Shivering, I grab the towel from the rail next to the bath and wrap it around my middle.

The distant sound of a ringing phone catches my attention as I step out of the water onto the thick rug by the side of the bath. I vaguely remember kicking my cell phone under the kitchen cabinets last night, then I realize the ringing is the sound of the landline in the bedroom.

That’s a little unusual, but I guess I wouldn’t know if someone’s been calling my cell since it’s been under those cabinets all night while I was asleep in the bathtub, giving myself a stiff neck.

Of course, I’m probably lucky I didn’t drown or end up with hypothermia.

Sighing, I move toward the bathroom door, bracing myself for a call from my father.

When I step into the bedroom, the ringing stops.

I let out my relief in a whoosh of exhaled breath, and then I get myself dried off.

Checking the time makes me grimace. I didn’t sleep past my appointment with my therapist.

The thought of dressing and putting on makeup like usual makes me groan.

All I really feel like doing is relaxing. Sinking back under my bed covers and passing out for a few hours, then maybe dragging the covers to the couch to binge watch a TV show or something.

I curl up under the covers, not letting myself lay down.

It’s a compromise I’m not entirely happy with, but I’ll take what I can get right now.

Warming up nicely, I let out a sleepy sigh.

How much trouble would I really be in if I slept through my session?

My father should have known better than to make my appointments on a Saturday morning.

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