The Devil You Know - K.B. Winters Page 0,1

to comfort someone in grief.

I’d had enough practice at it and this woman’s grief lay at my family’s feet. Sure, Lance knew the deal, but that didn’t change the truth. I slid from my side of the booth and around to Vanessa, wrapping my arms around her while she sobbed against my shoulder. Her pain was real, so visceral it sent a shockwave of grief through me until I felt my own eyes sting with the threat of tears. I did what I always did when it came to tears, shoved them back down deep where they belonged and focused on the matter at hand.

Vanessa.

I held her close while she cried for the only man she’d ever loved. Now she had to learn to live without that love. What does that kind of love feel like? Thoughts of love, of course, sent my gaze in search of the familiar crop of blond hair that belonged to a man I’d loved since I was a teenager. Terry Manning.

He chatted with everyone and wore a big wide smile that made the object of his attention at the moment feel like they were the most important person in the room, the most interesting and engaging individual he’d ever met. Unless you were me. Around me, you’d think I had the plague. He was the perfect lieutenant for Jasper, friendly and outgoing, better at working the room than my brother. It was probably what made them best friends, closer than brothers. And that closeness meant he could never, ever, be mine. Ever. Terry’s gaze caught mine and held me in its grip for several seconds, mocking and sparkling with mischief, before he looked away.

I sighed heavily and hugged Vanessa a little bit tighter, feeling greater sympathy for losing Lance. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the kind of love you and Lance had, Vanessa, but I’ve experienced loss. Too much fucking loss. I know you might think it’s too soon, but the road to healing starts with booze and when that’s finished, more booze.”

I flagged the bartender for another round, determined to do what I could to make this day just a little easier for her.

She laughed over the sob choking her throat and sat back, reaching for a handful of napkins to dry her tears. “Is that cute blond your man?”

Dammit, I’d been caught. “No. That’s my brother’s best friend, Terry.”

She guessed correctly. “But you want him to be,” she said, suddenly less teary eyed and more interested.

I nodded, figuring any distraction was better than having her thinking about her dead husband, even if it was my own humiliation. “I used to. Fancied myself in love with him as a teenager, but there are plenty of reasons it could never work, mostly because he’s my brother’s best friend, and he doesn’t like me.”

Vanessa laughed and the sound was pretty and musical. I could see why Lance was so smitten with her. “Those are stupid reasons; you know that right?”

I shook my head. “I used to think so too but look at them.” I pointed to where they were deep in conversation in a dim corner. “They’re closer than brothers.”

“But he’s not your brother. Lance was best friends with my older sister, and I always had a crush on him, but a three-year age difference is a lifetime when you’re teenagers. Then Sarah, my sister, got leukemia, and Lance and I grew closer. He resisted me, especially after her death. I was barely in High School. It was hard, Kat, but it was worth it. He was worth it,” she said and burst into tears once more. “Life is too short to not be happy.”

Her words struck me hard, and I tossed back another whiskey with a brittle smile on my face. “Maybe you’re right, Vanessa, but that’s an issue for another day.”

“Vanessa, dear.” Sadie stopped at the table, looking every bit the Irish-American matriarch in her black Chanel and matching black pearls. “Lance will be missed by us all. And if you need anything, consider the Ashby family, your family.”

Vanessa blinked her pretty blue eyes up at Sadie in confusion. “Are you serious?” she shook her head. “I had no idea this was his security job and you people; you’ve all been so nice. So kind.” More tears came and Sadie looked about as ready to bolt as Virgil had at the sight of tears, vulnerability. “Your son, Calvin, sent a housekeeper and meal delivery last week.”

“Family,” Sadie said and grabbed her hand,