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“Yeah.”
“How did he take it?”
“He ran me a bath.” I say it plainly, as if that single statement explains everything.
My fingers drum against the ceramic cup I'm holding with both hands, nerves getting the better of me. All I can think about is what's going on outside and how Cole's dealing with his family inevitably giving him the third degree.
“That's...sweet?” she offers. “Bit random.”
“Yeah.” I release a short laugh. “He said he's never had to deal with a crying woman before and figured that all girls love baths. He thought it'd cheer me up, I guess.”
“Did it?”
It's impossible not to smile as I remember the way Cole and I had squeezed into his tub together, my back against his front, the water warm and soapy around us. I don't tell Leighton that he got in with me or that we slept together afterward. I just nod and try to dispel the lovestruck expression I'm sure is slapped right onto my face.
“So, what happens now?” she asks. “Are you back together? Or just fucking until you have to leave again?”
Her words are a shock of ice water poured down my back. I've only just managed to force these very questions out of my mind, so the last thing I want to do is discuss them—no matter how much I love the girl who's asking.
“I didn't see Sadie outside. Cole said she'd be here.”
Leighton smirks at my less-than-subtle attempt to move the conversation away from the complexities of my love life, but she doesn't call me out on it. The expression in her gaze changes though, curiosity morphing into sad concern.
“Something happened at the hospital today when she was there visiting Clay,” she tells me, winding a curl of dark-blonde hair around her finger in a nervous habit she's had since we were kids. “That skank he cheated on her with was there when she arrived, sitting by his bed and holding his hand. Can you even believe that?”
“No.” I shake my head, my heart aching for Sadie. “I can't.”
“Bentley was there too. How bad is that? Poor kid went to see his daddy only to bump into the whore who wrecked his family. Thank fuck he's too young to understand. Sadie said he thought she was a nurse.”
I flinch at the word whore. It's not even that I disagree with the sentiment—though I'm not usually in the habit of using misogynistic slurs against other women, regardless of their sins—I just hate the word. Have ever since my own father branded me one. The vehemence in her voice takes me back to that phone call and for a fleeting moment in time, I'm back in that hotel room, scared and violated, while my daddy tells me I'm no longer welcome at home.
“You okay?” Leighton asks, jarring me back to the present. “You look weird.”
“I'm fine,” I lie, remnants of the memory creeping up my spine and making me shudder. Leighton eyes me with overt suspicion. “Think we're safe to go back out there?”
She links her arm in mine and pulls me out of the kitchen. “Won't know until we join them.”
It wasConan who was angriest when Thea left town. Not because he was ever particularly close to her or even liked her all that much, but because he's always been the type of man who's fiercely protective of the people he loves. He's not a great communicator, not affectionate either, but his love manifests itself in his unswerving safeguarding of his family.
Maybe it's because he's the oldest. I don't know. Or perhaps it's just something that's inherent in his being, which possibly explains why he went into the Navy Seals, but for whatever the reason, witnessing the total decimation of his brother's heart unleashed an overbearing soldier primed to fight the battle for me.
At the time, I appreciated it. Fed off it. His anger pulled me out of my despairing pit of heartache to breed my own. Rage made losing Thea easier to bear. It distracted me from the cavernous emptiness she left me with and gave me somewhere to redirect my pain. It was helpful...for a time.
But not anymore.
And though I've forgiven Thea for leaving the way she did now that I understand the reasons for her doing so, evidently Conan isn't ready to leave his rage behind.
“You can't be fucking serious,” he bellows from where he sits on an old plastic garden chair, legs spread and chest puffed, not even attempting to keep his voice down. “Is this actually real, or am I trippin’? You can't have seriously walked in here holding hands with that bitch.”
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I growl, lurching toward him only for Crew to pull me back.
“Conan,” Mama snaps. “I know I didn't raise my boys thinkin’ it's okay to speak about women like that.”
My gaze swings over the other faces in the group. Some watch with rapt attention, others have pink staining their cheeks and are looking literally anywhere else. It seems half the town was invited to the cookout today. Dad and a few of his golf buddies swig from bottles of lager and talk quietly between themselves, my sister and her friend Luella watch the spectacle with wide eyes, and several of the women from Mama's book club don't even bother concealing the level of sheer entertainment they're getting from this.
“Sorry, Mama.” Conan scowls. “But I can't be the only one who's confused right now. Thea's been back in town a week and you're, what, back together already?”
“No,” I deny, though the word tastes wrong on my tongue.
