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Abby knew something was wrong the instant she walked out of the Agency building after work and caught sight of Loki’s stoic expression in the evening gloom. Waiting on his idling bike by the pavement, he twisted around to give her a deep kiss and place a helmet in her waiting hands. Swinging her leg over his bike, she didn’t hesitate to ask, “What’s wrong?”
Quiet, Loki motioned for her to put her helmet on and settle into her seat. He zipped her jacket up to her neck and adjusted her collar. Facing forward, he gestured for her to wrap her arms around him. Once her arms were linked securely around his waist, he shouted over the engine, “We’ll talk at home.”
The way he said home filtered through her soul and settled in her belly, wobbly-like. Good to know that whatever was wrong had no
