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She raised her head, the sorrow replaced with fury. “I told her she should’ve been the one to die, that Hawke was the best of us. I called her a stone-cold bitch who deserved to be alone.”
He wasn’t about to diminish her pain by telling her those words hadn’t been hurtful. He had heard them himself and had winced at the venom she’d spewed. He had understood them and, in part, had agreed with her. Olivia had stood before them that day and announced Hawke’s death as coolly and calmly as one announced the weather. There had been no emotion, no monumental pain in her voice. She hadn’t acted like a grieving widow or the least bit sorry that her husband was dead.
Now that he knew the truth, he knew she had done that on purpose—if they hated her, blamed her, they would be less likely to look for another explanation. They wouldn’t get involved in looking for other answers. And they would stay safe.
“She gave us someone to hate.”
“And we did it with a vengeance.”
“It wasn’t something she wasn’t expecting.”
“No. I’m just sorry we were so predictable.”
“You’re going to have to talk to her.”
“I know,” Eve said softly. “But you know that apologies are not my strong suit.”
He smiled at that. One of the many things he admired about Eve was her acknowledgment of her weaknesses. She was a strong, proud, stubborn woman, but she was also the wisest person he knew. She could see her flaws better than anyone.
“Suck it up, Wells, and get it over with.”
Eve allowed herself the warmth of Gideon’s embrace for a few more seconds. She had relied on this man’s strength more times than she could count. He had once again offered her solace and peace. Taking a bracing breath, she pulled away and straightened her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“It’s what I do.”
She laughed softly and kissed his cheek. “And you’re so humble about it, too.”
He gave her arm a quick squeeze and then nudged her forward.
There was no going back. She had faced more unpleasant things in her life. More than anyone might know. Guns and knives no longer fazed her. She’d even had a huntsman spider thrown at her once, and she hadn’t flinched. But this…oh, this was hard.
She found Olivia sitting on a side porch, looking out at the same view Eve had been gazing at. She had likely seen Gideon talking with her. No doubt Olivia knew what they had discussed.
Sitting beside her, Eve stared straight ahead, working on the words.
“They’re not necessary, you know,” Olivia said quietly.
“Yes, they are. I was horrible to you. I’m sorry.”
“Everyone reacted the way we planned.”
“Really? I don’t remember anyone else telling you they wished you’d died instead.”
“You always did have a dramatic flair.”
“You must have hated me.”
“No, I didn’t. I was numb for a long time.”
“And now?”
Olivia shrugged. “I think I just want it over with.”
“Gideon once told me that we hurt the ones we love more than anyone else. Guess it doesn’t make you feel any better that I loved you that much.”
Olivia cut her eyes over to Eve, a slight glimmer of amusement in the blue-green depths. “Love hurts?”
“Something like that. You were the sister I never had, Liv. When you told us Hawke was dead in that oh-so-proper British way of yours, I felt betrayed. And I let you have it with both barrels.”
