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His eyes went to her hand. “Go on. Throw it. Might make you feel better. I’m confident in my ability to dodge and weave.”
She moved the glass hand to hand. It was tempting. The violence of it. The idea of shattering something to relieve the pressure in the back of her neck. But she wasn’t the kind of person who did dramatic things like that. She was the kind who bottled it all up until it made her feel ill. “No doubt you’re the artful dodger. It’s only a shame I can’t do something to put the heat on you without entangling myself.”
He folded his arms. She wanted to see leg action. Striding, leaving, not this large-person-immoveable thing he was doing.
“Back to the topic in question, Lenny. I need to worry about you, because Cal worries about you, and Cal is going to marry Fin. And by accepting the stolen money, you’re an accomplice to crime.”
She bit down on her back teeth, felt that spike in her neck, and pointed to the door with a vain hope he’d finally take the hint and give up on her like everyone else had.
He continued, “Fin didn’t think about how it would affect you when she was stealing my brother’s money. Yes, yes, I know she felt deceived and lashed out, but it screws you over, and there’s nothing you can do about that, because the whole house of cards comes tumbling down if you squeal. And you won’t. You can’t, because we can cover our tracks and make it look like another Bradshaw had their hand in the till. But aside from all that, I heard a guy threaten you, and until I know you’re safe, much as it’s a personal inconvenience, I’m not leaving.”
Where did he get off? “I’m a personal inconvenience to you?”
He scrunched his eyes. “That didn’t come out right.”
There was no right in her life, only jagged fractured pieces that didn’t fit together anymore no matter how hard she tried to glue them. “I don’t need your help.”
She needed to not to cry in front of him. She needed to sit in a corner and rock. She needed comfort food and the sanctuary of her bedroom and for this not to be her life. She squeezed the glass so hard it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.
“I hope that’s true,” he said.
“You don’t believe me.”
“I believe you would benefit from a pressure release. You should throw that glass.”
She put it on the table. She didn’t need advice from a Sherwood.
“It would make you feel better.”
“You can’t possible know what would make me feel better”—though maybe he was on to something about relieving the pressure—“other than you leaving.”
“Sometimes you have to smash things to make them right.”
He would say that. “Family motto?”
He raised a brow with a tilt of his head that was endearing and wry and smug at the same time. “Go on, Lenny. It’s your turn to make a mess.”
She looked at the glass then back to Halsey’s goddamn attractive face.
“You smash it. I’ll clean up.”
It was a decent offer. The best she’d had in a while, which was such an awful thought. She picked the glass up, just to have something to hold on to. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re angry and stuck and I really do want to help and it’s the least I can do.”
&
nbsp; She wasn’t a person who threw things. She didn’t have tantrums. Mallory slammed doors. Easton broke things. Mom cried. The itch that’d started in her hand traveled all the way up her arm.
“Aim right here,” he said, pointing to a spot shoulder height on the wall behind him. “You need—”
She didn’t let him finish telling her what she needed, because she needed to make a mess. She pitched the damn glass.
It was irresponsible and impetuous and irrational. Completely out of character, but the most satisfying thing she’d done in months. She felt bold and joyous and wild. For the moment that silicon bomb sailed, spinning through the air, it felt like she was fighting back and coming out on top.
Except for the fact her aim was off.
Luckily, like the artful dodger he was, Halsey Sherwood ducked.
