The sidewalks outside Kyle’s loft were swarming with people. Press. Fans. Paparazzi. Abbey didn’t know. But there was no getting near the place either way. She didn’t really think he’d be there. He still wasn’t answering the phone, so she’d given up on calling. If Kyle went to ground to hide from all this insanity, where would he go? She’d never been more aware of how much she hadn’t been a part of his life as she tried to find him in a city of three-quarters of a million people. And she couldn’t call anybody to ask for suggestions because her phone had died on the drive, and there was no charger in her car. Of course.
Leaving the crowd around the loft in her rearview, Abbey clenched the steering wheel until her knuckles went white. “I don’t know where else to look.”
“Buck up, Butter Bea
