Page 30 of Dreadful

I watch the space where she was sitting for a moment, wondering not for the first time this morning: what the fuck am I doing?

ELEVEN

BELLAMY

The sun is a heavy, immediate weight on my shoulders the moment I step onto the patio. Heat soaks through the thin cotton of Cruz’s shirt, clinging like a second skin. Across the turquoise water of the pool, Coco lifts a hand from her lounge chair. “Mornin’, honey. Come and sit by me a while.” She pats the cushion beside her.

She’s stretched out in a blue floral bikini, a navy wrap printed with faint gold paisley patterns draped loosely around her hips.

Something cold and sharp, like shards of glass, turn slowly in my stomach.

“Thank you for letting my sister and I crash here last night.” I perch on the edge of the lounger beside hers, knees pointed toward her, back straight.

“Of course, honey.” Her voice was syrup-smooth. “Did you get breakfast?” She reaches for a tall, frosted glass on the small table between us.

“Oh, uh, no. Not yet, thanks.” The awkwardness is thick and tangible. Like I’d walked into a room full of wet silk.

She takes a slow sip. Orange pulp and champagne bubbles clung to the ice. “At least tell me one of my boys got you a coffee. I had a fresh batch of cold brew in the fridge for everyone.”

“No, but my sister shared hers with me.”

She tsks softly, shaking her head. The movement made her gold earrings catch the light. “This is why they should all move back home permanently. It’s like they leave me and forget their manners entirely.” Her eyes scan the empty patio, lingering near the sliding glass door. “Bishop was just out here. I’m sure he’d get you something to drink.”

“I’m fine—really,” I assure her, the lie feeling thin on my tongue.

She doesn’t look away. Her gaze is a slow, deliberate weight, and I have to lock my muscles to keep from shifting under it. “How’s your arm? Gage patch you up okay?”

I gesture vaguely toward the bandage. “Just a little sore. I’ve had worse.”

And like a key turning in a lock I’d sealed shut, memory floods in.

My vision narrows to one eye, the other completely swollen shut, and my lungs violently protest every wheeze of breath. One hand wraps around the cold iron bars as I press my face against them.

“Please. I—I need help.”

“I’ve got some special painkillers if you need ‘em,” Coco offers, pulling me back to the sun-drenched patio. “I don’t like to see you hurtin’, honey.”

I exhale slowly through my nose. “Thanks, but I should probably keep a clear head today.”

She taps one tangerine-colored nail against her bottom teeth, humming softly. “Of course.” Her eyes don’t leave mine. “My boys are being especially tight-lipped about what happened last night.” She leans in slightly, the scent of her perfume hanging between us. “But I know you understand how important it is for a family to be… transparent with each other.”

Heat prickles up the back of my neck and I keep my face very still. “It’s all kind of a blur, honestly. Rafe could probably walk you through it better than I can.”

She holds my gaze for a beat. Then the corner of her mouth lifts. “He’s been up since before dawn, you know. Circling the property—making sure nothing gets too close to what’s his.” The lift of her mouth deepens, slow and deliberate. “He’s always been my most devoted one. I don’t pick favorites—how could I, with four perfect boys?”

My pulse ticks up. My fingers find the hem of Cruz’s shirt and I stop them there, pressing flat against my thigh instead. The sensation in my chest is one I recognize the way you recognize a smell from childhood—before you can name it, your body has already reacted. Something itchy and close and airless, like being buttoned into a coat two sizes too small, the collar pressing into your throat every time you try to swallow. I spent years learning to breathe through that feeling. I’m not going back.

“Bishop has something the others don’t.” She taps the side of her temple once with her nail, a single precise click. “They’re all sharp. But my oldest understands how a family actually works—the architecture of it.” Her eyes stay on mine, unhurried. “He’ll put the pieces together. And when he does, he’ll handle it. That’s what he does, honey.”

“Right.” I let the word sit there and do nothing with it.

“A good night’s sleep does wonders for the body.” She lifts her mimosa, turning the glass slowly in her hand. “You should stay another night with my boys. They’ll take good care of you.” One corner of her mouth hooks up. She winks at me over the rim.

I press my spine a little straighter and remind myself I’ve survived worse conversations than this one. “That’s actually—yeah. I wanted to bring up this morning, actually. What happened⁠—”

Her free hand cuts a lazy arc through the air between us. “Oh, honey. Don’t give it another thought. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

I turn that over and can’t find a clean side to it. I clear my throat. “I just—I didn’t want it to read as disrespectful of your home. Gage came in at some point during the night, and⁠—”