The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,419

about finding her.”

I hope he is dead. Because if he’s not, I need to make him pay for what he did to her. Show him what it’s like to be helpless while someone takes pleasure in hurting you. Before I let the law have him. My oath to do no harm can’t possibly bind me in a case like this.

“I’m sick with guilt,” she says, and I blink to refocus my vision and glance down at her.

“About what?”

“Rebecca. Are you not listening to me?”

“Of course, I am,” I stroke her hand and push my thoughts of vengeance away. “Any clues about her?”

“Not one. It’s like…she doesn’t exist.”

She doesn’t meet my eyes. I run a thumb over her delicate cheekbones until she turns to look at me.

“You mentioned people sending hate mail. Have you been getting threats?”

She looks uncomfortable, but she holds my gaze and shrugs. “Of course, I have. It comes with the territory of being a woman online. I’m not worried. As long as nobody knows who I am, it’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” I reassure her.

Her eyes cut to me, and they glitter with annoyance. “I know that. It’s also no one’s business but my own. But now, there’s also them...”

Her gaze loses focus, and she stares at her hands.

“Who is them?”

“The women who found each other on the podcast and came forward to put an end to Zimmerman’s reign of terror. I’m still the lady with the Scarlet letter A on her chest. I don’t want to do anything to hurt their chances in court. Right now, The Jezebel is an anonymous, but reliable source. If they know it’s me, all of those women will be guilty by association.

“That’s ridiculous,” I sputter.

“That’s misogyny, Stone,” she corrects me.

I nod. My work

“Getting their day in court is going to be hard enough. I want that man to be held accountable for the lives he’s altered. And I want to see justice done.” She ties up her explanation with that perfectly simple, simply perfect bow.

If I wasn’t in love with her already, I would have fallen again, right in that moment.

She stifles a yawn and moans softly. “Can we talk about this later? I feel like garbage and my kids will be home in a few hours.”

I yawn, too and slide down to lay beside her. “No complaints, I’ve been up all night.” She curls around me, draping one of her shapely legs over my hip, and resting her chest on mine. I cup her head and stroke the thick tangle of curls. I can’t believe we’re here.

Just like that.

“Sleep. Then food. And I’d love to meet your kids.” I let my eyes drift closed.

“Okay.” She tilts her head downward.

“You’re stretching out my socks,” she grumbles.

I crack an eye open and the smile on her face is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“I can’t sleep barefoot. My toes get cold.”

Her chuckle is the last thing I hear before I drift off.

Chapter 57

So Domestic

Regan

“Mommyyyyy, catch me,” Henri shouts at the same time he launches himself up into my arms. I catch him, but stagger to stay upright when Martinez wraps his arms around my legs.

“Did you miss me or something?” I ask, delighted by their warm hugs and the weight of their small bodies melding with mine. I hitch Henri on my hip and take Martinez’s and turn to smile at Eva.

“Hi, angel.” I blow her a kiss.

“Hi, I guess I’ll get the bags,” she grumbles, but with a smile on her face. I lean down to drop a kiss on her cheek. She smells like chlorine and sunscreen. Eva climbs back into the car to get her brothers’ backpacks, and my mother hops down.

“You let them go swimming already, you’re getting soft.” I raise an eyebrow at my mother’s mock disapproval.

She shrugs. “They’re much nicer than you were.” She smiles and walks past our huddle toward the house. I pivot and rush after her as fast my clinging children will allow.

“Are you coming in?” I ask, when I catch up.

She glances at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Don’t I always?”

“Wait. I want to tell you someth—”

“Qui est cet homme?" Martinez digs his heels enough, to bring me to a halt, and I follow the trajectory of the finger he’s pointing, and even though this isn’t going according to plan, I can’t help but smile.

Stone stands in the doorway freshly showered and dressed in the same jeans and shirt he was wearing