“At least I didn’t sell myself for the sake of a man who hung you out to dry.”
I gasp in affront., “My grandfather did not—”
She leans in. her chin jutting upward. Her eyes blaze with anger has me taking a step back. “He Hung. You. Out. To. Dry. Just like you did us. For something that wasn’t our fault.”
“It was entirely. Your. Fault. You’re lucky you didn’t go to jail. My grandfather did his best for you.” I stab a finger in her face.
She shoves it away and leans in, so we’re almost nose to nose. “He did his best for his granddaughter and himself. And you can’t see that he was involved because you were so enamored with him.” she says in a voice deepened by anger.
I’m shocked by the way this escalated. I just want to get into bed. I dig deep to find enough restraint to be the bigger person.
“Listen, we’re obviously never going to agree on this.”
She steps away from me, her lips turning down in disgust. “Oh, one day, you’ll find the courage to look at your family and yourself honestly. Then will agree. But until you prove yourself better than the men who hurt us, I don’t think we have anything left to say.”
This is it. After that awful fight we had last time we saw each other, I’ve still thought of Matty as my friend. But it’s clear that was a hopeful delusion. It hurts to see that so clearly. There’s nothing of the heartbreak I’m feeling in Matty’s expression now. In fact, her eyes are completely unreadable.
I can’t hide mine and I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’s hurt me.
“Good luck, Matty. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a safe trip home.” Then, for the second time, I turn away from the sister my heart chose. This time, I don’t look back.
I walk into my suite and shut the door behind me. I press my back to it, draw in huge a lungful of air. I press my hands to my heated cheeks and pull them away in surprise.
I stare at the moisture on my fingers in confusion for a few minutes before I realize there’s more running down my face.
I haven’t cried since the night I found out my husband had made a mockery of my entire existence. Before that was five years prior when my grandfather died.
Nothing had ever hurt as much as those things had, not before or since. But to hear myself cast like that and to know that there were some truths laced in with the ugly accusations she made. My eyes fall on the small box that we brought Jack’s ashes in. Oh my God, my best friend is dead and the other one might as well be.
My emotions, so long pushed down, ignored, smothered swirl inside of me like a thousand tornadoes looking for a way out. They are tearing me up inside, but I don’t know how to free them.
The door to my suite opens and I spin around, wide eyed with fear that Marcel is here.
“Hey, I used my key…” Stone trails off in mid-sentence when he sees me. “What happened?” He glances over her shoulder and then moves into the suite, his eyes scanning the room.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. So, I reach out and in the space of two breaths, his warm hand is gripping mine.
“I’ve got you.” He wraps a strong arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. I nestle into the warm, clean smelling sanctuary of his chest and cling to him
“It’s okay. Let it all out, and when you’re done, I’ll be here. You won’t have to do it alone,” Those words are an echo in time. So is the absolute comfort I feel letting my guard down with him.
I’ve never felt delicate—not once in my whole life—until this man made me his lover. He’s strong enough for both of us. So safe in the harbor of his arms, I let the storm raging inside of me loose.
Come With Me
Stone
Regan isn’t crying. She is grieving. Her sobs are laments punctuated by hiccups, and sniffles. Her fingers clutch the front of my shirt. Her hot tears soak through the cotton, and she trembles like she’s freezing.
I was sixteen when she got married. I hoped she’d be miserable. But, the man I am today hates to think that she has been. I’m glad I