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She would find no proof of that.
“She’s happy,” I said. “Why do you want to ruin that?”
Bea stepped forward, close enough she could take a swing at me and I wondered if maybe that was her plan.
“You broke her, Clayton. Shattered her into a million pieces and took away every single thing she ever wanted. And I was there watching her put herself back together again with half her pieces still missing. And I won’t let you do that again.”
For the millionth time I wondered if I had made a mistake waiting to get her back. If I’d gone after her that night, or at any moment in the last five years to convince her…of what? I did the terrible thing she thought I did. That my feelings were real made no difference.
I was the man who’d shattered her into a million pieces because I thought I could have everything. The girl and the business. The land. Her father under my thumb.
If I kept my mouth shut, only to open it wide enough to tell lies, if I kept myself small inside what I wanted, if I just waited for the threat to pass, I could keep everything together.
All skills I learned from my childhood.
“You’re a good sister, Beatrice,” I told her.
And walked away to my car.
I could see her in my rearview mirror. Ronnie came out to stand beside her.
Ronnie lifted her arm in farewell.
I would not lose her again. And I would not see her hurt. Not by anyone.
Veronica King would get everything she’d always wanted. And I would be the man to give it to her.
18
VERONICA
“You can’t marry that guy,” Bea said when Clayton’s car was no longer visible.
“What if I want to?” I asked. Both of us were surprised to hear the words come out of my mouth.
“You’re joking.”
“I don’t know that I am.”
“Have you forgotten? Because I haven’t forgotten—”
“Of course I haven’t. But…he explained it.”
“Oh, this should be good.”
It wasn’t. I mean, I understood his reasons, but they weren’t noble reasons. They were selfish, greedy reasons. I didn’t like them. But I understood. Bea wouldn’t.
And part of my marrying him now was for selfish and greedy reasons. I wanted the peace of knowing my sisters were okay. I wanted the peace of not worrying.
And I wanted that foundation.
Part of me, maybe the dumb part, maybe the horny part—I didn’t even know anymore—but part of me was considering it…for me. Because the sex was outrageous. Because this morning, I’d almost had unprotected sex because the idea of getting pregnant with Clayton’s baby had been beguiling.
Because I was happy. I really was.
But I didn’t want to talk about any of that with Bea.
“I think this has something to do with the land,” she said. “The land you got and he didn’t. I think he’s using you for the land.”
“He’s paying me for the land. The land is practically his. It’s a moot point.”
“It’s never a moot point. And you haven’t gone, have you?”
“To see it? No? Why would I?”
“To see who is living there! What if this is a Dad situation and he’s got his mistress and, like, ten kids living there. You need to go look.”
I wanted to laugh the whole thing off as ridiculous, because it was. But she’d brought up Dad and the mistresses, and that had become a surprising sore spot for me.
“You know, not that I don’t enjoy the third degree, but you’ve been gone for days.” I turned the tables on her. “What happened?”
Bea’s self-righteous, angry expression cracked and what I saw underneath was ravaged.
“What happened in Austin?” I asked, stroking her messy hair off her forehead.
Bea looked away, out over the land and chewed her lips.
Never a good sign.
“Frank isn’t real. I mean…he’s a real guy. But that wasn’t his name. He’s scammed about five different women out of money. Left them all with debt. The police asked me a bunch of questions and then let me go.” She put her hands through her hair and sighed. “I have to go back. The police might have more questions. But I can’t stay in that town.”
“Oh, honey,” I said and pulled her into my arms. She let me hug her but that was about it. She was like a limp washrag in my arms.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, and she nodded against my shoulder.
“Have you heard from Sabrina?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I haven’t checked my messages—”
Because I’d been too busy having pseudo-sex with Clayton.
“She had to change her number,” Bea said, and I pushed her back by the shoulders. “And she closed down all her social media.”
“What?” Sabrina’d had her same cell phone number since she got her first phone. And her social media? This was bad.
“She said she got hacked. And she quit the show.” I knew it was serious because Bea didn’t pull a face or make fun of Sabrina at all. “She sounded…different.”
