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He’d molded me after Pigeon.
He’d told me she was the best mediator he’d ever seen.
There wasn’t a deal she couldn’t swing, a situation she couldn’t negotiate, a man who hadn’t respected her.
She was magnificent, Nebraska. Calm under pressure, persuasive, fair but tough when she needed to be. But most of all she had an iron will. No one crossed Pidge.
I heard the stories.
What Charlie failed to mention was he was telling me stories about my mother.
The same mother who was alive.
I was going to be sick.
Or cry.
I wasn’t sure which.
But I knew I’d rather puke until I passed out than shed a single tear for the assholes who’d betrayed me.
I couldn’t break.
Not yet.
Maddon had to be dealt with and now more than ever I was determined he would die by my hand.
I couldn’t hold back the first tear and once it escaped the floodgates opened.
There in a room that was not mine, in a country far away from my home, I stared at the ceiling wondering how I would pick up the pieces of my life as the sting of betrayal leaked out of my soul and ran down my cheeks.
I was hot all over.
Not just hot, sweltering.
I opened my eyes to a dark room. I immediately knew where I was. And just as immediately I remembered.
Before I could roll away from the heat source I felt strong, calloused fingers wrap around the back of my neck then heard a rumbled, “You okay?”
Easton.
In bed with me.
What in the hell?
With great effort I forced myself to relax.
“Why are you in here?”
The fingers at the back of my neck pulsed.
“Babe,” he murmured.
“Is that an answer?”
I laid perfectly still when the bed moved. I stopped breathing when I felt that heat get closer. I fought back a whimper when Easton’s forehead gently hit the back of my head.
“I heard you, baby.”
