I snorted.
She laughed.
“In all seriousness,” I said, “you don’t owe me anything. If the roles were reversed, you would’ve done the same for me.”
“I like to think I would, but I don’t really know.” Frowning, she raised her shoulders. “That last time before I left David was the first time I’d ever hit him back. My trauma response isn’t fight. Most of the time, it’s freeze. Just like I did the other night.”
The first few times I’d frozen, as well. Eventually, I developed the flight response. I ran from my ex if he threatened to escalate violence. The fight response came further down the line.
“I just—I’ll never tell anyone, Gwen. I’m a little ashamed to admit how grateful I am. And embarrassed. I had a knife in my pocket, but I didn’t grab it. I should have. I shouldn’t have let him do this to me again. I should’ve fought back.”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Sipping my coffee, I stroked Honey’s head. She eyed my plate. “All that matters now is getting through the next week or so. Once your face heals up, we move the hell on from this.”
“Yeah, I know.” Biting her lip, she shook her head. “And we will. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have questions.”
“Like?”
“Like, are you sure he was dead?”
“Hundred and ten percent.”
“But how can you know? What the hell happened anyway?”
A sigh escaped my nostrils. “Plausible deniability, Simone.”
“I slept in your bed last night to keep anyone from seeing my face,” she said. “I’m already an accomplice. All night, I just kept imagining him rising from a shallow grave with an arrow through his chest, coming back here, and slitting my throat.”
Guilt pinched my chest. “I didn’t get him with an arrow.”
I understood why she would’ve thought that though. Part of our self-defense course included becoming proficient with a weapon. Rhiannon said it was about building confidence. Guns weren’t allowed on the ranch, so I’d chosen a bow. Figured it’d work against a coyote if one ever charged me and Honey.
Simone stared me down, her good eye watering. “What was it then?”
If it would help her sleep better at night, fine. “He got in my face when I told him to leave. He shoved me, I shoved him, and at some point, fists started flying. His hand was around my throat, and I had a knife in my pocket, so I stabbed him.”
Brows raising, she cocked her head to the side. “Like, once? That’s all it took?”
“Definitely more than once.”
“Damn,” she murmured. “What was going through your head?”
“‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit.’” I nibbled my waffle. “‘What the hell did I just do?’”
“No, I mean, before you did it.Whileyou did it. Did instinct just kick in, or was it something else?”
“I didn’t think about doing it before I did, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Not really.”
“Then what?”
“Like, were you afraid for your life, and you couldn’t break free, so you just?—”
“No.” Shaking my head, I slid the platter from my lap onto the bed. Honey rushed toward it, ready to devour the whole plate. With a grunt, I grabbed it and set it on the nightstand. Honey whined and laid her head back down on her paws. “Nope. I’m not doing this.”
“You’re not doing what?”
I stepped to the hardwoods and grabbed my robe off the hook on the wall. After I tossed it over my shoulders, I grabbed the platter. “You know what.”
