What had been missing from her for years was slowly resurfacing, and I couldn’t have been happier for her.

Two blonde heads come into sight, and as one turns around, I recognize Ali. The other is rubbing her back as she leans over, hands resting on her knees, hair curtaining her face. Oh, Jesus, she’s sick.

I race over to her. “Ali, are you okay?”

She hurls, emptying her stomach contents all over the sidewalk and I glance away at the sight.

“Lindsey, is that you?” She groans before more evidence of her night splatters everywhere.

I take in the woman rubbing Ali’s back. She looks familiar but I can’t place her. I move my hand on top of hers. “Thank you for taking care of her.” I give her a reassuring nod, showing her my gratitude. She stares back at me with pity in her features.

“Lindsey.” A guttural voice pulls me away and I bite my lip. Shit. I’d been too caught up thinking about Ali I hadn’t stopped to think about how Mason might react to me skipping out on him this morning. My heart pangs with regret. I shouldn’t have left.

“Mase.” I throw my hands around him, enveloping him in a hug, apologizing for my earlier behavior even if he doesn’t realize it. Had he not have called me before, not been at the Vic tonight, God knows what would have happened to Ali. I pull him into me closer, clutching the back of his shirt. He’s come to my rescue, he’s come to my sister’s. He’d organized my destroyed home to be cleaned and redecorated for Christ’s sake. My heart no longer needed proof of his good intentions. My head on the other hand was another story. I lean my cheek on his solid chest and listen to the drum of his heart.

“Thank you,” I whisper. My voice was so soft he probably didn’t hear it. I was thanking him for so much more than just looking out for my sister tonight.

His hands flatten on my waist before he sets me down, letting me go. He flicks his gaze in Roamyn’s direction where he stands beside him. The silent conversation happening between them is louder than any music blaring from inside, any whistle ringing in my ears. Roamyn is angry.

He scratches his nose and sniffs loudly, his hard, cold eyes settle onto Ali who’s bent over. He shoves his hands down to rest on his hips and turns his head away, as if the sight physically pains him to watch.

Cassidy coughs, breaking the tension thickening around us. “Lindsey, I know you don’t know me, but if your sister needs help, don’t hesitate to call.” She passes me a napkin with her number carved into it in ink. “Please pass that on to Ali for me, too. I’m Detective Cassidy Kane. We met a few weeks ago and I spoke to you on the phone.” Her lips tilt up in a small smile but it’s pained, much like the one I give her in return.

“Yes, of course, hi. And thank you, again.”

She grabs the front of Ali’s hair dangling in her face and tucks it behind her ear. Ali’s still curled over, but now she’s eerily quiet for the usual drunken Ali.

Warmth slides against me in the form of two large hands, my back finds a wall of hardness and the nerves itching at my skin settles. Calmness overrides anxiety and my body and heart recognize him, soaking up everything he’s willing to give me because right now, I need it.

I need strength to pick up the burdensome pieces of Alison.

I need strength to not fall apart as I watch her drown.

I need strength to not fill with resentment, for this addiction, for her weakness. For her.

Cassidy’s quiet voice cuts through the air. “Well, I’m going to find Eli and head off. Ali’s got who she needs so I’ll catch you all later.” She eyes me with a tight smile, tone thick with emotion and it must resonate something in each of us. A pang jolts my heart, Roamyn coughs, and I feel constraint around my middle where Mason squeezes me.

A murmur comes from behind me. “Thanks, Cassidy.”

She shakes her head and places the clutch in her other hand up under her arm, securing it between it and her body. “It’s no problem. Bye, guys.” She waves off.

Roamyn mutters, “You’re safe now, Ali. I’m out—”

“No. Roam wait.” Ali cuts him off pulling herself up to standing so she can see him.  She clutches her stomach, face contorting in agony. I frown, something’s not right. This isn’t her. She doesn’t get this sick just from alcohol. Her body is immune to the assault it endures from her lack of care.

Roamyn shoots her an agonizing expression, eyes hard, his body rigid and unmoving. “Can’t do this shit again, Ali. I’m going home, you should too.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and averts his eyes. The history with Roamyn and Ali is laced in their words and intertwined with the pain we’re witnessing pass between them. For the second time, being in the company of these two, I rack my brain for what the hell I’ve missed and how I missed it, but I come up blank.

Her hair flicks from side to side as she shakes her head. She grabs it between her hands and a stitch of pain rips through me seeing her this way. “You don’t understand. I didn’t touch any alcohol. I didn’t take anything.” She steps forward, racing into Roamyn’s body, gripping onto the front of his shirt while her whole body trembles as she holds back the tears glassing her eyes with wetness. “You have to believe me. I wouldn’t, not anymore.” She trails off, her pleading gaze never leaving Roamyn’s. The situation leaves me speechless. My fingers tingle with the need to comfort her but this isn’t my moment and the hands wrapped around my waist, holding me tight are a reminder of that.

He grabs ahold of each of her wrists, pulling her hands off him, but he doesn’t let her go. He holds their hands together between their bodies. His jaw clenches, and he looks to the ground. “That’s the thing, babe. I don’t believe you.” He drops Ali’s hands and he’s gone, the busy streets of the city withdrawing him from sight.

A stunned Ali stands still, feet cemented into the concrete, shock holding her captive. My heart sheds another layer of hope for her, the hurt etched in her features leading me to believe no good will come from the events of the night. Whatever her and Roamyn shared was deeper than I realized.

Mason drapes his heavy black jacket over Ali’s shoulders and wraps an arm around her, supporting her weight as he urges her to walk without voicing any words. No words are necessary; we all witnessed the moment that just passed. On Ali’s free side, I curl an arm around her and we head home together.

Mason

Lindsey flicks on the light switch just inside the door, illuminating the darkness of the loft.

I haul in a sleeping Ali in my arms. “You want her in the spare room?” I ask, already heading down the hall with her.

“Yeah, thanks,” Lindsey calls out. Taking in the place, I notice what a decent effort Cassidy’s interior designer friend did having this place cleaned up and ready for Lindsey to come home to. I recognize a few pieces of furniture, some still intact after the break in, but a lot of it is new. A long rectangular mirror on the wall in the hall replaces the one that used to hang there. New curtains drape over the large windows and new cushions are scattered over Lindsey’s bed as I pass her room. You’d never guess twenty-four hours ago there were clothes strewn everywhere, drawers pulled open and emptied, smashed glasses all over the kitchen floor and books torn, page after page. The place had been well and truly trashed. I walk through the open door to the empty room and bend down with Alison in my arms. I grab a hold of the covers and yank them back. Slowly, I lower her to the bed, hoping not to wake her. My effort for doing so is pointless because as she rolls over, she stirs, murmuring and opening her eyes slightly.

“Detective Cole?” she mutters only now realizing it’s me taking care of her. Fucking Roamyn. Anger boils in my palms, shooting up my arms, urging me to punch some sense into the bastard after his attitude toward Alison earlier. He fucked up. She fucked up. But that wasn’t the time for him to turn his back on her. I didn’t know their history, not really sure how I missed it, but history or not, he needed a reminder on how not to be an asshole.