“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.” Bethany spoke firmly. “You loved him.”
“Not by the end,” she said sadly.
No, she’d loathed him by the end. Fucking despised him. And . . . and . . . goddamn it, yes! She’d also loved him. She’d loved and hated him, and she’d hated herself for being able to feel both emotions in equal measure.
Maybe if the hatred had been stronger, she could’ve stopped him sooner. Instead, she’d stood by and watched as his behavior became increasingly tyrannical. Cruel. Nauseating.
She and Sloan had both seen Jake losing control, but they’d been loyal to him. Too loyal. Neither of them had stepped in until it was too late.
Reese sucked in another breath, but it didn’t help. She still felt dizzy, and she couldn’t stop the grisly images from flashing through her mind. Couldn’t shut out the screams she’d heard coming from her bedroom that horrible night three years ago. Her hands trembled as she remembered opening the door and seeing Jake with Cassie. Seeing the wild look in his eyes. And Cassie’s stricken face. The blood . . .
“Reese.”
She squeaked when she felt a punishing grip on her chin, when her head was yanked up.
“I’m sorry,” Bethany murmured. “I shouldn’t have brought him up. But you need to let go of that mug before you cut yourself, sweetie.”
Blankly, Reese stared down at her hands and realized she’d been clenching the mug so tightly that the crack on its side had fractured, leaving two jagged pieces between her fingers and warm liquid on her lap and the sofa cushion.
“Fuck,” she swore. “Let me clean this up.”
Bethany started to get up. “I can do it—”
“No. Sit. I’ll do it.” She flew off the sofa and into the tiny kitchen. But the apartment Bethany had shared with Arch had an open layout, which meant the other woman could see Reese moving around in the kitchen, could see how shaken up she was.
Without a word, Reese dumped the broken mug into the trashcan, then grabbed a rag and hurried back to mop up the stain on the sofa. Her throat was tight with shame. Not just for ruining Bethany’s couch, but for everything. Arch’s death. Jake’s death. Flaunting her naked body in front of Sloan last night when she knew he lusted for her.
She was a goddamn bitch. The way she treated him, it was a wonder that man had stuck by her side all these years.
“Listen, I don’t want you to worry about the delivery,” Reese said, finally meeting her friend’s eyes. “I’m going to take care of you. We all will.”
Bethany nodded.
“Anyway.” She feigned a careless tone. “I’ve got to check in with Beckett about a few things, and then I’m heading over to the field behind the high school to check on the crops that Gwen is experimenting with. If you need anything, find Sloan, okay?”
“Okay.”
She gave Bethany a quick, awkward hug good-bye, then ducked out the door before the woman could say another word.
On the front stoop of the two-story building, Reese took a series of deep, calming breaths. It didn’t help. She was rattled. Mad at herself for falling apart in front of Bethany. She was supposed to lead, damn it, not slice her chest open and display all her fears and insecurities to the people who trusted her to be confident and unafraid.
“Reese,” a timid voice called out.
She turned her head to find one of her teenage charges approaching. It was Christine, the quiet fourteen-year-old who’d joined them less than a year ago. Sloan and Beckett found her and her two older brothers living in the woods about a hundred miles south of Foxworth. The men had brought the three siblings home with them, but while Christine’s brothers had adjusted to their new camp almost immediately, the girl remained shy and withdrawn even after ten months of living inside the town gates.
“What do you need, honey?” Reese asked.
“I didn’t want to bother you, but”—Christine grimaced and then lowered her voice—“my, uh, time came.”
“Your time?” Reese was momentarily confused.
The girl waved a hand toward her pants. “Yeah, you know. My girl time?”
Ahh. Reese got it now. Fighting a smile, she reached out to ruffle Christine’s brown hair. “That’s perfectly normal. Remember we talked about it before? Did you use your supplies?”
“Yes. I just . . .” There was a frustrated sigh.
“Are you in pain? Does it hurt?” Reese pushed.
Christine’s face screwed up. “Yeah . . . is that normal? To hurt so much?”
“Unfortunately, yes. One of the many amazing perks of being a woman,” she said dryly, then slid an arm around the girl’s shoulders.
That was all the encouragement Christine needed—the teenager threw her slender body against Reese, wrapping her arms around Reese’s waist. “Thank you for taking us in. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”