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Sam takes my hands in hers. “Isabella, you don’t have to tell me any of this if you’re not ready.”
“I have to tell someone,” I say in a thick voice. “Because if I don’t, I’m afraid it’s going to eat me up alive.”
Sam squeezes my hands and says nothing.
“The harder Rich tried to get me out of the house, the more confused I became. I finally pointed the gun at him and demanded that he give me answers.”
Sam’s sharp intake of breath reverberates inside of my head.
“We fought for control of the gun, and I tried to get away,” I continue in an impossibly soft voice. “But he wouldn’t let me go. I thought he was going to kill me and the baby.”
Silence stretches between us.
“Isabella, d-did you shoot Rich?”
My eyes fly open, and I look directly at Sam. “I thought he was the one who shot me until I saw the stain, and I… I have no idea what came over me after that, but I took his car keys and left.”
Sam’s eyes widen, and her face pales. “Carter doesn’t know, does he?”
“I can’t tell him… not yet. I… I didn’t get far before I remembered Tristan,” I add, my voice cracking toward the end. “I should’ve remembered him sooner. I don’t know why I don’t.”
Except that I hadn’t been thinking of him at all. At the time, all I could think about was getting the blood off my hands.
Literally.
And when I changed out of my clothes and was calm enough to drive, I’d been worried about the baby. I’m ashamed to realize it took me too long to think of the Blackthorne cousin. Far longer than I’d like to admit.
“You were in shock,” Sam says, finally, her voice surprisingly clear. “You went into flight mode to protect your baby. I understand that.”
I shake my head, more tears spilling freely now. “You shouldn’t. No one should. I’m not this pure and perfect person everyone has to protect anymore. Instead, I’m just… I’m just…”
Sam climbs back onto the bed and holds me to her. “Isabella, this doesn’t change anything. I still love you, and I’m sure everyone else does, too. What you did, you did to defend yourself and your baby. No one can possibly blame you for it.”
I cling to Sam as if my life depended on it. Her words are like a soothing balm over my aching soul. But they do nothing for the demons lingering in the shadows and in the back of my mind.
It’s not that I don’t want to believe Sam.
It’s that I can’t.
“No one is going to think less of you,” Sam repeats in a louder voice. “And if they do, then they can all go and screw themselves. Every one of us would’ve done the same in your position, and I don’t blame you for Tristan because you tried to come back.”
I’m crying harder, ugly and loud sobs when Carter comes in and freezes. He looks between Sam and me, and a shadow settles over his face. “What the fuck did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Sam answers in a clipped and even tone. “Isabella had some things she needed to get off her chest.”
Carter takes a step in our direction, his expression growing darker. “You’re not supposed to upset her. The doctor said she doesn’t need any more stress.”
Sam’s grip on my shoulders tightens. “I’m not the one causing her stress right now.”
A look passes between the two of them, one full of charged intensity and meaning.
“Stop it,” I murmur without looking at them. “Stop fighting.”
Sam releases a deep and uneven breath. “You’re right, Isabella. I’m sorry. I should go.”
I shake my head, wisps of hair smacking me in the face. “No, don’t go, please.”
I catch the wounded look on Carter’s face as he folds his arms over his chest. “I have a few phone calls to make, dove. I’ll be back with some food later.”
