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sharply.
“Stay out of this, Bobbi,” Billie said as she rubbed her stomach and stared at Betty, her face flushed with anger and…something else. Disgust? Dislike?
Okay, that hurt. But hurt just made Betty push back. She blew out a hot breath and clenched her hands.
It’s on.
But Betty’s throat was so tight she didn’t know if she could speak. Instead she waited for the axe to fall, shoulders tense, her heart black.
Her fingers crept up to her neck—she didn’t even know it—and she rubbed her tattoo as if it could somehow give her strength. Courage. And yet the hollow space inside her expanded, threatening to swallow her whole.
It was too much. She was too full. There was no way she could do this. Some things should just stay buried.
She glanced out into the parking lot, spied Gramps car and strode forward, shoving her way past Billie and dragging in a big gulp of air.
“So, typical,” Billie snarled. “You run when the shit hits because you’re a coward.”
Betty ignored her and kept going. She was about ten steps away from the car when Billie spoke again.
“So, what is this? Are you jealous of the fact that I ended up with Logan and not you? Are you really that petty?”
Betty froze.
“Ah, so that’s it.” A pause. “I knew it.”
Something broke apart inside Betty. A piece of ice that shattered and filled her with such rage that for a moment she saw nothing but blackness. Her hands clenched and she whirled around. In that moment she hated her sister. Hated her.
So much.
“You don’t know shit, Billie, so just shut up.”
“I’m not going to shut up. I’m sick of shutting up and tiptoeing around you like you’re some kind of fragile princess. We both know you’re not fragile. You’re hard as rock. You don’t give a shit about anything or anyone but yourself. You never have.”
Betty’s heart was pounding so hard she felt it pushing blood through her veins with every beat. “You don’t know…” she began but couldn’t get the rest of her words out because of the anger clogging her throat.
Billie walked toward her, while Bobbi looked on, stricken, but quiet.
“Don’t I? I think I know a hell of a lot.” Billie glared at her, so close that if she wasn’t pregnant, Betty would have knocked her on her ass.
“Don’t start this, Billie,” Betty warned.
“Start?” she snorted. “I’m trying to finish this. I’m trying to understand. Is it Logan? Is that it? Is this because he and I ended up together?”
“Yes.” The word slipped out in spite of the burning in her throat.
Billie looked shocked as if she wasn’t expecting the answer, and before Betty could stop herself, that piece of ice inside her shattered and everything tumbled out.
“You want to know the truth? It’s not pretty,” Betty said.
“I want to understand—“
“I hate that you and Logan are in love.”
Billie’s mouth hung open in shock.
“I hate that you’re having his baby and that you have this life, this unbelievable, lovely, perfect fucking life, complete with that stupid cat and a white picket fence.”
“Wow,” Billie said, her voice a little rough. “I had no idea you were so jealous and petty. Unreal. You could have any guy you want. Why do you want mine? Or are you just pissed that he chose me over you?”
