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“Fine,” she murmurs, not meeting my gaze.
It’s a lie. She’s not fine. She’s not merely exhausted. She is emotionally spent.
Besides Barclay Reed lying on a slab at the morgue, Stephen Lund suffered a blow to the head that resulted in a concussion. He’s in the hospital for observation, but should recover in a day or two. The police arrested Paul Daniels for murder, interviewed Bethany and me at length, then left with assurances that they’ll be in touch. I’m hoping she finds some consolation in that.
A glance at my phone tells me it’s almost ten p.m. Through the evening, Ash brought us bottles of water. Samantha followed up with salads and appetizers, even a couple of scoops of ice cream, trying to tempt Bethany into eating. She refused every morsel and now looks ready to fall over. I’m worried about her.
The woman has been through hell. In the span of an hour, I broke her heart and she lost her dad. Despite all that, she answered the detectives’ questions clearly and concisely. Her voice trembled, but she never succumbed to tears. I see them lurking now, needing release. Normally, I would put my arms around her and lend her my strength, encourage her to give me all her troubles. In fact, I’d love to. I’m desperate to. But she refuses to lean on me. Hell, she’s barely speaking to me.
I have no one to blame but myself.
I fucking wish I had a do-over on this entire afternoon. If I could go back, be honest with her about my identity, then ask questions before I accuse her of playing me, remind myself there are two sides to every story… None of that would save her father, of course. Paul Daniels was determined to have his pound of flesh and, once he heard the truth from Barclay Reed’s own lips, he was willing to go to prison to get it. Maybe that’s not a surprise since his days are numbered anyway. But I compounded her sudden loss with my lack of trust and utter betrayal. I thought I understood the situation, so I opened my big mouth and said all the worst things. I was so fucking wrong.
How do we come back from this? Or can we? Did I destroy us forever?
Despite those anxieties, I can’t not help when she looks so ready to fall over. “Sweetheart…”
When I cup her elbow to lead her toward a chair, Bethany twists away. “Don’t touch me.”
Sighing, I release her and step back, somehow managing to keep my hands off her. But it’s a fight. Touching Bethany, comforting her, feels so right.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say instead. “I know you and your father had a difficult relationship at the end, but it’s always painful to lose someone you love.”
She wraps her arms around her middle as if she’s trying to give herself the fortitude to press on. “More than I probably should have. But he was a positive influence in my childhood. He made sure I never wanted for anything, he educated me well, and spent time with me. For that, I’ll always be grateful. I’m just in shock now. I’m sure I’ll grieve him and eventually accept that he’s neither the man I thought nor here with me anymore. Forgiveness for everything he did—to everyone—will take time.”
True. It’s a small blessing that she’s already considering absolving him. If I’d forgiven sooner, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to pursue Bethany under false pretenses. And I wouldn’t have gotten my heart ripped out. I’m probably only getting what I deserve… But if she can eventually find mercy in her soul for her father, she’ll find peace. Of course, part of me can’t help but wonder if she might find it in her heart to forgive me someday, too.
“The healing will happen when you’re ready,” I murmur. “And I know it’s a small consolation that he won’t be able to hurt you anymore—”
“But an important one. At least now there will be no trial. Not having my name dragged through the mud anymore will be a relief. The truth can come out, and I can walk free from his shadow and move on with my life.”
“Eventually, those will feel like positives.”
Bethany turns to glare my way. “Yes, but don’t act like you care. I’ve already heard enough of your lies. I don’t need more.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Don’t call me that.”
I sigh. “I’m really sorry, Beth. For everything I accused you of. For every lie I told you. For—”
She holds up a hand. “It doesn’t matter now. You got the answers you came for. You got the justice you wanted. The will my father updated weeks ago in anticipation of his divorce becoming final leaves me everything. So hopefully, I’ll be able to track down what’s left of the victims’ stolen funds and return them to everyone, you included. Beyond that, you and I don’t have anything else to say. It would be best if you didn’t contact me anymore.”
