Page 77 of Sugar & Shadows

Ethan, the predatory motherfucker, gave me a condescending smile, like I was a child, and clapped my shoulder. The gesture appeared friendly, but underneath that façade was the pretension ingrained in him. “I think Sabrina and I can handle this,” he said smoothly. “Keep things streamlined.”

My eye twitched. Streamlined?

I was going to kill him. My fists flexed.

This wasn’t me.

I’d never been in a fight in my life. Other than the typical childhood skirmishes with my brothers and cousins.

But even then, I was usually the one breaking them up. Mediating. Talking people down and shaking hands after.

I used words. Not fists.

And yet… I surveyed the oversized Rolex on Ethan’s wrist, considering what kind of damage I could do if I beat him with it.

Stop. I blinked a few times, trying to get a hold of myself.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Dragging in a breath, I willed my anger to abate. I’d never once in my life looked at another person and thought “I want to hurt them.” Yet here I was thinking about beating a man with his own luxury timepiece.

And as badly as I hated to admit it, these feelings weren’t about Ethan.

They were about her.

And that was a big problem.

Chapter 21

Sabrina

“Good to see you, Sabrina.” A small woman wearing denim overalls over a tank top stood in the doorway of the frigid barn. She had spiky platinum blond hair and full sleeves of tattoos, and she oozed angry confidence.

I took Frankie Dunne’s offered hand. For someone so tiny, she was strong as hell.

“So this is self-care?” I asked.

“For many people, no.” She crossed her arms. “But Nina told me you were the kind of chick who gets it.”

I smirked. “Call me a chick again and I’ll bury an axe in your ass.”

Her grin widened. “That was a test and you passed.” She opened the door and gestured for us to step inside. “Welcome to paradise.”

The old barn smelled like pine needles, wood smoke, and poor decisions. The combination was strangely nostalgic.

“In our family, we don’t light candles and journal,” she joked.

“Yes. We’re more misdemeanors and property damage,” Nina deadpanned.

Another woman emerged as we stepped inside, bundled up in a pink puffy parka and matching knit headband.

“Do you know Stella Stone?” Nina asked.

I nodded politely. Our paths had crossed, and I’d noticed her chatting with Gabe several times, so I’d done a little research. She was twenty-nine, a first-grade teacher, and sweet in a stereotypical small-town way. A quick social media search had revealed that the perky blonde with a round baby face volunteered with every organization, committee, and charity in town. And she seemed like a genuinely good person. We could not be more different.

Stella nodded at me. “You have amazing shoes,” she said, her voice full of melancholy.

“What size do you wear?” I asked.