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Her eyes flicked back to his, wanting him to understand what a brave woman his wife was, that it wasn’t cowardice that made her leave him, but her belief she was protecting him. “My sister couldn’t sleep without a light on, yet she faced that dark tunnel with a single flashlight and the courage of a warrior. And then she took on the FBI, making demands before she would hand over the documents we stole. Immunity, protection, new identities. She was awesome, but I was so absorbed with my self-pity that I didn’t care. The more she fought for us, the more I retreated into myself.”
She gave a harsh laugh. “And the more I resented her. When the Marshall Services found us a suitable foster home, I refused to go, choosing to make my own way. She was a reminder of everything I wanted to forget, and I just couldn’t have her in my life anymore. I abandoned my sister, Beau,” she whispered, blinking furiously. “And I am scared shitless about facing her again.”
“Felicity.” It took a while before she could look at him. “When last have you seen your sister?”
“Not since the day I walked away from her,” she admitted.
“Don’t you think it’s time?”
*
Felicity walked up the driveway, gravel crunching under her boots, eyes locked on Beau as he approached the side entrance of his home. Her mouth was parched, her heart pounding.
Her sister waited in that house. The sister who had dragged them both out of hell, nothing but nerve and determination holding her together. The sister who had been defiant against the idea of submitting to the tyrant who ruled their lives, bursting with chutzpah and the unshakable belief that she could bend the world to her will.
The guilt that it had been her baby sister who had initiated their escape had never diminished. Neither had the envy. Or the bitterness that came with knowing she’d never had the guts to fight back.
Felicity willed herself forward, each step dragged like her ankles were chained to a cement block, every movement an effort against the weight settling in her chest.
She stepped onto the porch.
Two things stopped her in her tracks: the low menacing growl of a brute of a dog, and the woman reaching for the weapon strapped to her side.
Her sister.
Eyes, once alight with daring, now carried the caution and exhaustion of a woman who lived every day fighting to keep her son safe.
The myriad of expressions flitting across her sister’s face were easy to read. Surprise. Longing. Sorrow. And caution.
Deep shame washed over Felicity. For so many years she had sidestepped Raegan’s attempts to reconnect. And what for? Because she had been too fucking wrapped up in her own sense of not measuring up.
“Kat,” her sister whispered.
“Inessa,” she returned, her tone sharp.
Her sister wrinkled her nose. “My bad. That’s not us anymore.”
Felicity managed a twisted semblance of a smile. “Definitely not.”
Rae turned her attention to Beau. “You know,” she murmured.
Beau nodded and moved closer, cupping her face. “I do.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheeks.
Her sister started crying.
“Ah, Rae. Damn, baby, you’re killing me,” he ground out, pressing her face to his shoulder, smoothing his hands over her back.
Felicity looked away, feeling uncomfortable witnessing the emotional scene between Beau and her sister. She tried to step back, but the Rottweiler issued a deep-throated warning, and she froze.
“Maybe you should tell Xena that Felicity is a friend,” Beau said, his voice threaded with dry amusement.
“I’d appreciate that,” Felicity deadpanned.
Rae gave a shaky laugh. “Xena. Felicity is a friend. Say hello.”
The dog promptly sat and offered a paw.
“Good dog,” Felicity muttered warily, taking hold of the dog’s paw, holding back the grimace when Xena licked the back of her hand. She straightened slowly, brushing her damp skin against her jeans.
