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“There’s nothing to talk about.” My breath was sawing in and out. I felt like I was going to pass out, but I’d be damned if I would sit down. I wasn’t about to show any weakness; they’d use it against me.

“Chloe, if you’d just―”

“Time’s up, Ladies.” Zarek said as he stepped into the room. “Chloe made her position perfectly clear. She’s coming to Dallas with me.”

I turned away from the people in the room and eyed the solace of the bed. Couldn’t I just crawl under the blankets and hide?

“You’re not going with him, are you? You know that’s the wrong decision. You need us.”

Trenda managed to say the exact wrong thing. I looked my sister dead in the eye. “I’m going with Zarek.”

I turned to see if Zoe had any arguments and saw that she was hunched over, holding her stomach like she’d taken a body blow. It took a moment to remember what I’d said to my twin that had left her with such a stricken expression.

“You hate me,” Zoe gasped.

I shut my eyes, trying to block out everything.

“Everything hurts, Zoe. Everything is a reminder, and I’m angry about a lot of things. Zarek’s right. I need to get away from here.”

Zoe slowly straightened up and stared at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Come on Trenda, let’s go.”

“At least let us help you pack,” Trenda offered.

Zoe and I both let out identical weary laughs. Trenda couldn’t help herself. She was a big sister until the bitter end.

“Come on, Tee, our work is done. Let’s bail before Chloe decides to leave and never come back,” Zoe said, dragging Trenda out the door.

Chapter Six

Zarek

I caught her before she slumped to the floor.

“I’m fine,” she said as she weakly batted at my chest. I gently placed her onto the bed.

“Yes, you are. I think that confrontation was a long time in coming. So emotionally, you’re a little closer to fine, but physically you have a long way to go.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s seven o’clock. Are you hungry?”

“God no. My stomach is twisted into knots. If I smelled food, I would probably throw up.” She pushed up on her elbows. “I was asking what time it was to see if I can just go to sleep for the night.”

She looked exhausted. “When did you get to be so delicate?”

“Huh? I’m the furthest thing from delicate,” her voice was weary. “Don’t forget, I taught you how to change a flat tire, and I had to gut the first fish you caught because you were too squeamish to do it yourself.”

I shuddered at the memory. Chloe had been proficient with the knife, fileting the bass so we had a perfect fish to cook over the open fire. Hell, she couldn’t have been much more than ten years old.

“The fish was slippery,” I defended myself. “Every time I tried to cut into it, it slid out of my hands.”

“Amateur.”

“I learned. You taught me.”

“See, I’m not delicate,” she said, coming around full circle. But her looks belied her statement.

“Fragile.”