the wet sand the same way the conversation she’d just had with Lacey pressed into her heart.
Lacey was pregnant; that was, quite honestly, not a surprise. From the moment Lacey and Clay had stopped fighting the battle and given in to their feelings, Lacey had wanted to beat the biological clock and squeeze in another child. Even with a fifteen-year-old from her long-ago college love affair, Lacey had always wanted a second child.
But that wasn’t what made Jocelyn’s slow rise to a chair pose so unsteady.
The equilibrium problems came from deep inside her gut, the origin of all balance. Because way in her innermost core, Jocelyn was actually considering Lacey’s offer. Lacey needed her and she needed—
“Hey!”
The single word, shot like a bullet across the beach, knocked her right on her ass. Landing in the sand, she turned to see Will marching across the beach, the first flutter of happiness instantly erased by the sense that something was very, very wrong.
He carried a paper or card of some kind in one hand, his arms swinging as though he could propel himself forward faster. His face was dark with a scowl, his muscles bunched, his jaw set.
Was Guy hurt?
She pushed up, brushing sand from her yoga pants, not sure why Guy would be her first thought or why that thought would tighten her stomach with worry.
Something was wrong.
At a distance of about twenty feet, she could practically see Will’s nostrils flare.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, her words carrying over the breeze but eliciting no response as he marched off the remaining space and stopped right in front of her.
“Will?” She tried and failed to read his expression.
He took a slow breath, his chest rising and falling as he stared at her, the silence so unnerving she bit her lip and took a step backwards.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The question was low and husky, almost drowned out by the squawk of a gull.
“Tell you…” Her gaze fell to the large envelope he was holding. And her heart stopped.
“I ran into Charity at the credit union,” he said.
Oh, no. No.
“She gave me something for you.”
Finally, she dragged her gaze from the envelope to his face, simply unable to put words to the tornado of emotions twisting through her. “And you looked at it.”
“Not intentionally. But I saw—” He closed his eyes, a shudder rolling through him. “Why didn’t I know this? Why didn’t you come to me? Why?”
She took another step back, the impact of the words—and him knowing the truth—too much for her to handle.
“He gave you a black eye.”
Agony stretched across her chest, pressing so hard she couldn’t breathe.
“He beat you.” His voice cracked and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple quivering. “He left marks all… over… you.”
She shivered, running he hands over goose-bump-covered arms, blood rushing so noisily through her head she couldn’t hear her own thoughts.
“And you never told me.” The last sentence was spoken on a sigh, all the anger gone, only sadness there.
She finally exhaled. “You’d have gotten yourself killed or ended up in jail. It would have cost you everything.”
“Who cares? He beat you because of me.”
No, he beat her because he was a heartless animal. “You shouldn’t have looked at those.”
“Kind of a moot point now, Jocelyn. You should have told me. You should have come to me, not Charity Grambling.”
“I didn’t go to Charity. She picked me up on the street.”
He grunted like she’d punched him. “You left that night and didn’t walk fifty feet to me?”
“So you could do what? Ruin your life and your dreams and your career?”
“Jocelyn.” He could barely say her name. “He deserved to die.”
Stepping closer, she reached for the envelope. “But he wouldn’t have. And you might have. Give it to me.”
He just gripped it tighter. “He could have killed you.”
“He almost did.” She snagged the envelope from his hands, the paper still warm from his touch. “Now you know why I never contacted you.”
He tunneled his fingers in his hair, dragging them through like he could yank out the facts. “God, I hate him.”
“Welcome to my world.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Jocelyn looked down at the envelope, part of her almost wanting to open it, but she couldn’t stand to see those images again. She wasn’t even sure why she’d asked Charity to give them to her, except for the joy of burning them.
And now they were burned into Will’s brain. Where she’d never, ever wanted them.
“This can’t come as a surprise