Page 103 of Heat Lightning

She nodded. “I fell fast and hard. We were married a few months later. It sounds ridiculous, but I felt so free from being written out of my parents’ will that I didn’t see how constricting my life actually became. Not for a long while. Too long.”

Pushing her food around, she continued, “Atlas was the first to say something. After what happened to their mom…” She shook her head. “As you know, he’s not the most diplomatic guy. I told him to fuck off. He didn’t. It pissed Grant off and made everything worse. When Atlas realized that, he actually listened.” Her eyes watered. “It was the loneliest time of my life, and that’s saying a whole lot for the only alpha daughter of a mother who would make a Stepford Wife look overly emotional.”

I wanted to hug her, but she was stiff as a board. “I hadn’t seen Atlas or Saint in a year and a half,” she whispered. “But when I showed up on their doorstep with his handprints bruised around my neck, they didn’t even blink.” She wiped at her face. “They brought me inside and told me their home was mine and I could stay as long as I wanted. They didn’t ask me why I took so long to leave. They didn’t ask me anything, really, except one question.”

I was so tense a stiff breeze would’ve snapped me in half. “What?”

Looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, she whispered, “‘Do you want us to take care of this?’ That was it.”

I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “And did they? Take care of it?”

She nodded. In a completely different tone, almost as if she were reciting a well-practiced lie, she said, “Heartbroken that I left him, my husband checked himself into a hotel, got rip-roaring drunk, and threw himself off a twenty-second-story balcony. There were plenty of witnesses.”

Silence stretched. “I lived with Saint for a while after that. He gave me a job as his house manager, mostly because it was stuff I already did.” She shrugged. “And then I moved into my own place. I spend a lot of my downtime doing research for Atlas,” she eyed me knowingly. “He pays me for it but says it’s for my time at the clinic. It’s nothing like what I thought our lives would look like when we were stupid teenagers, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. And I would protect it with everything.”

Wow. I cleared my throat. “I understand.”

And I did. Really. She was just as protective of the life she’d built as I would be if someone threatened it. In her shoes, I wouldn’t have spilled those secrets to me, either.

But that didn’t fix the trust he’d broken, even if I understood why he kept me in the dark.

I had so many questions about the clinic and how involved Gwen was in finding his targets and so much else. But there was one thing that stuck in my mind. Leaning over the table, I asked, “Was that his first… target?” Was that how he became what he is now?

“That’s for him to tell. But I will say…” She also leaned in. “That man would throw himself off a balcony before he ever hurt you.”

Shame bloomed across my cheeks. “I know,” I said, voice scratchy. “I shouldn’t have said that he would. I like who he is. I more than like who he is. I just—” I shook my head, unable to find words for the squirmy rejection and pain still roiling inside me.

She nodded. “I really should’ve told you I knew him sooner. I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t have supported you being with him if I didn’t believe he would be good for you, and you, for him. I love you both, and I hope you can figure this out.”

“It would help to actually talk to me instead of hiding,” I grumbled, pissy all over again. I recognized the man I thought I knew in her story. It wasn’t all just in my head—he existed.

So what the hell happened? Why the secrets? Why reject the bond?

“And you wouldn’t know anything about hiding from confrontation, now, would you?” she asked, a single eyebrow raised.

My mouth popped open. “I have no idea what you mean.”

She chuckled. “I’m starving. No more talking until I’ve had real food.”

We ate our meal in companionable silence. I didn’t want to say anything to Gwen because it’d been her suggestion to eat here, but the food was mid at best. Maybe they had a new cook.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said when our plates were cleared. “Atlas asked me to give you these. They weren’t ready until this morning.”

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out an oblong box and set it on the table.

“This morning?” I asked, my heart fluttering. Gwen had seen him this morning? Was he okay? Did he sleep last night, or was he up, thinking about me the way I’d thought about him? Did he want to talk to me?

Wait, no, I didn’t care about any of that. I wanted him to leave me alone.

Mmhmm.

“He left them on my porch like a feral cat presenting a dead mouse,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I swear he and Jeffrey have the same personality.”

I immediately recognized the gift. Flipping the lid up, my breath caught.

Glasses. But not just any glasses, my glasses. My favorite glasses.

You’ll get your favorite pair back, sweetheart.