Page 42 of By A Thread

She grinned and wrinkled her nose. “I’m just trying to make the point thatLabelhas historically been at the forefront of change. You led the transition to digital without making a giant plummet out of the black. Why not consider inclusivity as your next history-making foray?”

“We sell a fantasy. Clothing that reminds readers about illness or disabilities isn’t fantasy. It’s real life, and they’ve got enough of that.”

She frowned thoughtfully.

I didn’t like defendingLabel’sbrand. Not when I was still learning all the subtleties of it. Fantasy and image were essential to our brand. “Don’t you have something else to do, like find a new victim’s life to ruin?” I asked, changing the subject.

“You talk a good game, Charming, but I think you don’t hate me nearly as much as you pretend to,” Ally said airily.

“Wanna bet?” I sighed.

“Sorry. Broke.”

A shrill ringing erupted from the depths of her backpack.

“Christ, what is that?” I asked as the sound pierced my eardrum.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she frantically pawed through her bag.

“Hello?” she answered, breathlessly clutching her idiotic phone.

Her entire body seemed to go rigid while she listened.

“Is he okay?” she demanded. The hand gripping the phone to her ear went white-knuckled.

She looked pale as she shoved a hand through her hair.

“Okay. What hospital? Is it a precaution or…” she trailed off, nodding.

“I can be there in—” She leaned over Nelson and glanced at the GPS display. “An hour. Two tops. Hello? Can you hear me?”

She pulled the phone away from her ear and peered at the screen. “Dammit! Of course it goes dead.”

“What’s wrong? Where do you need to go?” I demanded.

She gripped the door handle like she was going to vault into traffic, and I clamped my hand over her knee to hold her in place. She was trembling, and it was killing me. “Ally.”

“Family emergency,” she said, a catch in her voice. “Nelson, could you pull over? I need to catch a train.”

“We’re five blocks away from the closest subway station,” I told her.

“I can walk. I need to walk.” In short, jerky motions, she was zipping her backpack and then trying to shoulder it.

“Take the car, Ally,” I said.

She stopped what she was doing and looked at me. Really looked at me. Her brown eyes were wide. She looked scared, and I decided I fucking hated that look on her.

I squeezed her knee, hard. “Breathe,” I commanded.

She took a slow breath and let it out. “I can’t take the car. I’m going to Jersey,” she said, her voice calmer.

“Nelson loves Jersey,” I told her.

“I live for it, sir,” Nelson chimed in.

That got a shaky smile out of her.

“He’ll take you to Jersey, and he can wait and drive you home,” I said.