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I needed more. I needed confirmation. I needed something more than admittance to his disgusting, misogynistic mindset.

Flexing my fingers to loosen the tension, I snorted a laugh I hoped sounded legitimate. “Who’s ever complained about a newer model?”

His laugh assured me it had. He raised his glass and clinked it off mine. As the laughter fell off, Evan raised a shoulder. “I never saw Ava that way. She was the baby of the family.”

Liar. He’d always seen her that way. Young, malleable, pretty. If Delilah hadn’t taken his bait, Ava would’ve. She was only a year younger. She had always been the baby.

She still was. Delilah had been too. “They grow up fast.”

Another laugh, this one more of a chuckle. “She and I got to talking after Allie left. I was asking if she knew anything, if they’d talked, and... I don’t know. One thing just led to another. She was lonely without her sister, I was lonely without my girl, and... I’m just glad we have each other through this.”

“Shit, I can only imagine, man.” Imagine bashing your head off this fucking counter.

“We’ll be alright,” he said, taking another sip from his glass, eyes on his own in the mirror again. I wasn’t sure if he referenced Ava, or the man whose reflection he stared back at. His jaw tightened again when he said, “Just sucks Allie wasn’t.”

“Yeah. It really sucks.”

The longer I watched him, the more he spoke, the harder it was to purity-preach to Gwen. This bastard deserved worse than the justice system would ever give him. What he was doing to Ava wasn’t even against the law. What he’d done with Delilah had been, but no one around him had stepped in to say so, to stop it. No one would stop this either.

“What would that feel like anyway?” He still stared ahead, eye contact locked with his own in that mirror, brows slightly creased. “Dying. Suffocating.”

If Gwen had it her way, he’d find out soon. “Peaceful, I’d think. Like falling asleep.”

“No, it’s not peaceful,” he said. “Quicker than bleeding out, but the thrashing.” He tugged at the sleeves of his suit. “The clawing. It wasn’t peaceful.”

What I’d expected. What, deep down, I’d known.

And yet, adrenaline soared down my arms again. Bile churned around my stomach, burning a violent path up my chest, igniting fire in my throat, blazing acid over my tongue.

“Th-that’s what it said online.” He looked directly at me, eyes a bit wider, words clearer than they’d been. “I looked it up, and that’s what it said.”

“Right,” I muttered. “But like you said. Faster than bleeding out.”

Almost undetectable, his shoulders softened. His eyes did too.

“Hey, Evan,” a voice called behind us. A young voice. A sweet girl. A child. Ava. That wrinkle in his brows, the one I’d noticed yesterday, that phony grief, returned as he looked at her over his shoulder. “The preacher’s asking to talk to the pallbearers. Are you busy?”

“No, I’ll be right there.” He downed his drink and stood. Once he was on his feet, he stretched out a hand. “Thanks for keeping me company, man. I’ll see ya up there.”

“Sure. Don’t mention it.” I reached out for his hand, and my heart pounded in my chest.

A thin red line, like a brush burn or road rash, peeked from beneath the suit cuff.

Evan’s eyes followed mine. He started to pull away, but I grabbed his hand and shook. Hard.

“Good luck.” I didn’t stop my jaw from stiffening this time. “I’m sure you’ll need it.”

For half a second, he squinted, then blinked hard.

“Evan?” Ava called.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” He had to wrench his hand from mine. He flexed his fingers as he started that direction, holding my gaze until he was at her side in the entrance.

I sipped the old fashioned again to wash that acidic taste from my tongue and dropped a twenty on the counter.

My phone dinged in my pocket.

Gwen