Page 25 of The Beast

“A person in shock. And let’s be real. You weren’t starting something with David—it was sex and solace. He’ll understand.”

“Maybe,” I say. But the truth is, I know that David’s feelings for me have always skewed toward romance. And that if I hadn’t been so selfish, I should never have jumped on the FWB idea.

“You can talk to him tomorrow,” Harper says, reading my mind in her Harper kind of way. “Right now, sleep.”

“Will you stay with me?” I sound like a seven-year-old, but I don’t care.

“Of course.” She kicks off her shoes and climbs into bed. “We’ll figure everything out tomorrow. Tonight, you just need to breathe.”

I lie down beside her, letting her put her arm around me the way she used to when we were kids having sleepovers. Back when our biggest problems were mean girls and strict parents and whether the boy we liked would ask us to dance.

What I wouldn’t give to have those be my problems now…

“He scares me,” I whisper into the darkness. “Not physically—I don’t think he’d actually hurt me. But the way he looks at me now... It’s like he’s already decided I’m the enemy and nothing I say will change his mind.”

“Then we’ll find proof. Evidence. Something that shows him the truth.”

“How? If my father was involved, there probably is no proof.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Harper’s voice is firm. “We’re smart. We have resources. And we’re not going to let Gabriel Grimm spend the rest of his life believing a lie.”

“And if we can’t prove it? If he never believes me?”

She’s quiet for a long moment. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. And maybe that will be enough to let you move on. Besides, could you really stay with a man who doesn’t trust you?”

“No,” I whisper, my heart already starting to break. “I love him,” I whisper. “Even now. Even after everything. Is that pathetic?”

“No.” Harper pulls me closer. “It’s love.”

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have, because suddenly I’m dreaming.

Gabriel is there, standing in a field of golden light. He looks like he used to—before the scars, before the coldness, before whatever forged him into the man who accused me of murder. His eyes are soft. His hand is reaching toward me.

Izzy, he says. Come back to me.

I reach for him. Our fingertips almost touch⁠—

And then I wake up, gasping, as morning sunlight streams through the windows. And as Harper, already dressed, with a cup of coffee leans against the door frame. “Rise and shine,” she says. “We’ve got a beast to tame.”