Page 43 of Freeing Lark

“But I do.”

“Do you?” Wren looked away. Lark touched her arm. “Because if you don’t want this, I can help you.”

Wren’s eyes snapped back to hers. “Help me how?”

“Get out.” Wren stared at her. “Out of the engagement. Out of all of this.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think.”

“You walked away.”

“Exactly.”

“You left.”

“Because I didn’t want it.”

“And I do.”

Lark studied her. “Really?”

“Yes.” The word sounded rehearsed. Like she’d said it so many times she’d stopped thinking about what it meant.

Lark’s heart hurt. “Wren...”

“I’m happy, Lark.”

“Okay.”

“I am. Bradley’s a good man and he’ll take care of me.”

Was that all there was to it? Did she just want to be taken care of? Did her sister not want something for herself? “Okay,” Lark managed, her voice tinged with hesitation.

“I love Bradley.”

Lark swallowed. She didn’t believe her. Not completely. But pushing harder tonight wouldn’t help. “All right.”

Wren looked relieved. Lark squeezed her hand. “If you ever change your mind...”

“I won’t.”

“But if you do.” She left the rest unsaid.

Wren’s expression softened for just a moment. “I know,” she whispered, understanding completely what was left unspoken.

Lark nodded. “Good.” She stepped back. She wanted to believe her sister. She really did. But something about tonight felt wrong. Not just the docileness of her sister. It was everything. The gala. Grant Calloway and that damn symbol along with Hoot’s reaction.

Too many pieces didn’t fit. Lark glanced across the ballroom. Hoot was nowhere in sight. She wished he were. For the first time all evening, she wanted someone who would tell her she wasn’t imagining things.

Because deep down, she knew something was wrong. She just had no idea what.

CHAPTER 13

Lark regretted not flying back to Bell Creek last night. She regretted it with every cell in her body. Unfortunately, the Whitmore Foundation gala had ended too late for a reasonable flight, and her mother had insisted that she stay at the family’s Georgetown mansion.

So now she was trapped at a breakfast table that had never felt welcoming. Hildi sat at the head, immaculate in a silk robe that probably cost more than Lark’s monthly rent. Her father, Richard, sat opposite Hildi hiding behind his newspaper as usual. Wren sat beside her, silent. Lark occupied the seat farthest from all of them. Her coffee was the only thing keeping her from committing a felony.