Page 196 of Spicy Ever After
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The words are low and lethal. It’s a good thing her parents aren’t within a five-mile radius. “They threatened to do that to you?”
Before she can answer, another thought slams me. “Did they give you this ultimatum when they took you to see the townhouse?”
She’d been giddy that day. And that night—after I picked her up from the bachelorette party—she would have spilled this ugly secret if she’d been carrying it.
Wouldn’t she?
She snorts. “No. There was no ultimatum until the day after Margaret’s wedding.”
The day after Margaret’s wedding.
The day Hillary Mercier knocked on the cottage door and found me wearing nothing but a bathrobe behind it.
What a coincidence.
“Right,” I growl.
“Whatever you’re thinking about my parents right now, Beck, you’re right,” Hattie says. “It was shitty. I’ve told them that. So has Margaret. They haven’t apologized, and I don’t think they ever will.”
I don’t hear the soft yield of acceptance in Hattie’s voice. It’s just the flat tone of resignation.
I’ve been angry with the Merciers for weeks now. Mere anger has nothing on this feeling. And those assholes were worried about me manipulating her?
“That’s fucked up. That’s so wron?—”
“Beck—” She interrupts me, a desperate edge in her voice. “I know. But what I really care about is what you think.”
A punch to the throat would surprise me less. I struggle for a moment to find the right words. Gentle words. Because I know she’s upset.
But so am I.
“Hattie, honey, you care what I think? Even though you kept me in the dark for weeks?”
Hattie laughs over the line, but it holds zero joy. “Beck, I kept you in the dark because I was afraid of what you’d think.”
“What I’d think about what your parents did to you?” They basically extorted her to do what they wanted. They took her across the country to this place without a word of notice to anyone else—not even Margaret.
They left her at this… this… home.
And is she telling me this place changed her?
“What did they do to you at this Summit House?” I don’t just sound distrustful. I sound pissed.
“Whoa-whoa-whoa. Beck. Summit House is not a cult, okay?’ Her sigh sounds exasperated. “My parents did a shitty thing, and Summit House has been good for me. Two things can be true. Just ask Gwen.”
I blink. “Who’s Gwen?”
“My DBT counselor.”
Silence.
“What’s… DBT?”
“Dialectical Behavior Therapy. It’s a big part of what we do at Summit House.” Hattie says it in a rush. Like if she gets out the words fast enough, everything will be okay.
Which means…
She’s nervous to explain this to me.
