She hesitated, because she didn’t confide in many people. Sloan was the one she went to when she was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes Lennox. Tamara. But for all the others, she put on a strong front. She was their leader, which meant they weren’t allowed to see her worrying, or vacillating, or drowning in self-doubt.
She’d known Bethany a long time, though. Shit, it had been almost eight years now. The two women were seventeen when they’d first crossed paths. Where the hell did the time go?
“I did something stupid last night,” she found herself confessing.
“Yeah? What’d you do?”
“Rylan.”
Bethany snorted. “Ah. So he finally charmed his way into your bed?”
The humor in Bethany’s eyes was such a welcome sight that Reese’s heart squeezed. In the two months since Arch’s death, Bethany’s expressions had alternated between completely vacant and raw with grief.
“How was it?” Bethany pressed.
How was it? Reese couldn’t even begin to answer that. Hell, she wasn’t sure there were actual words in the English language that could describe what went down between the two of them last night.
No, the three of them.
Her wrists were still sore from Sloan’s punishing grip. He’d held her, restrained her so she was at Rylan’s mercy. Sloan’s mercy. The memory sent a rush of desire to her core, which only confused her body. She didn’t even know who she’d been coming for last night. Rylan? Or Sloan? Or both?
What she did know was that she’d done a very bad thing. A dangerous thing.
Rylan had been as wild and addictive as she’d suspected he’d be, but . . . she’d crossed a line with Sloan. She’d stared into his eyes while she was sobbing in release. She’d clung to him while Rylan screwed her hard enough to make her see stars. She’d threatened their friendship, and for what? A few orgasms?
It wasn’t fair to Sloan. She knew damn well that he wanted her—she’d always known—yet she’d selfishly asked him to be there last night, even though it must have been torture for him.
What kind of friend did that make her?
“You’re worrying me again.”
Bethany’s quiet voice jolted her from her thoughts. “I’m sorry,” Reese murmured. She picked up her mug and took another long sip. “My head is foggy this morning.”
“Good sex will do that to you.” Bethany’s faint smile was betrayed by the sadness in her tone.
“I guess. Anyway.” Reese finally lowered her gaze to Bethany’s belly. “I came here to talk about you. How are you doing, honey?”
“I’m fine.”
“Bethy.”
The woman let out a shaky breath. “Okay, I’m not fine. I’m fucking terrified.” She had both hands on her stomach now. “I have to pee every five seconds. This kid keeps me awake at night with all his kicking. My back hurts. And I’m dreading the birth, I really am.” Her face grew ashen. “What if something goes wrong?”
“It won’t,” Reese said firmly.
“You can’t be sure of that. I could die.”
“You won’t die, Bethy.” She wasn’t usually one to offer false assurances— especially when they all knew how fleeting life in the free land could be—but there was no way in hell she was letting Bethany even consider the possibility of dying in childbirth. “We have two medics who’ll look after you. And the other camp leaders will be showing up in a day or two. That means Connor, which means he’ll be bringing his woman. Hudson was a nurse in the city. If you feel comfortable having her around, she could be an asset.”
“I don’t feel comfortable about any of this,” Bethany muttered. She paused, then released a strangled cry. “I can’t do this alone! Why the fuck am I doing this alone? Arch was supposed to be here for this! He was supposed to hold my hand and mop the sweat from my brow and . . . and . . .” She trailed off, her entire face collapsing.
Reese instantly slid closer and took Bethany’s hands in hers. The woman’s fingers were ice-cold. “I’ll be there,” she said fiercely. “I’ll hold your hand and mop the sweat, honey. You won’t be alone, I promise you that.”
The assurances fell on deaf ears. Bethany’s eyes filled with tears, her dark lashes growing wet. “I miss him,” she whispered.
Reese drew a ragged breath and tried to ignore the deep pain in her chest. She dropped Bethany’s hands and picked up her mug, hoping the heat of it would warm her ice-cold body. It felt like someone was stabbing her heart with a rusty knife, each sharp thrust bringing the same scathing accusation: Arch died because of you.
The Enforcer who’d shot Arch had been aiming for Reese. That bullet was meant for her, but Arch had stepped in front of it. He’d lost his life protecting her.
Reese could barely breathe as the memory crushed her windpipe.
“I know you do,” she mumbled. “We all miss him.”
The tears slid out, staining Bethany’s cheeks. “Do you ever miss Jake?”
Reese’s head flew up in shock. Nobody in Foxworth ever said Jake’s name these days. Most of the new folks hadn’t known him, and the original members liked to pretend he never existed.
“No, I don’t.” The words were wrenched out of her throat, burning it on their way out.
Bethany brushed the tears from her eyes and said, “It’s okay to miss him, Reese.”