Nine damned years! He’d let nine years go by with her thinking that he hadn’t loved her enough to back her up. “You bastard.” How could he have done such a thing? “You couldn’t have explained this to me after the fact?” How could he have allowed her to suffer the loss of everything without telling her the truth? “You could have backed me up, and then we would have left together.”
He shook his head, his expression adamant. “If I’d backed you up, you wouldn’t have left. You would’ve insisted on staying here and cleaning up Grider’s mess. I know how you think, Addy. I had to make you angry enough to walk away. I needed you to hate me.”
“Well”—she glared at him with all the pain and rage that had been building for nine long years—“you succeeded.” Why couldn’t he see what he’d done? “You could have told me the truth after I left. At least then I wouldn’t have had to live with those feelings all these years.”
“As you’ll recall,” he pressed, his tone reflecting his own rising frustration, “I tried to talk to you. To explain.” He shook his head. “But you wouldn’t talk to me. I sent letters. Sent messages through your mother. I even showed up at your door once and you called your HPD friends to haul me away. You ignored everything. Finally, I gave up.” He sighed, the sound weary with the old hurt. “It was enough for me just knowing you were safe. Keeping you safe is all that has ever mattered to me.”
How could he do that? Just let her walk away thinking what she thought of him. “Well, that’s just great. Thanks for clearing things upfor me. I’m going to bed.” He’d thrown everything away because he didn’t think she was strong enough to take care of herself. Just proof positive that he’d never really known her at all.
She hesitated, turned back to him. “Just so you know, you worry for nothing. You threwusaway for nothing.” She bopped her chest with her fist. “First, I’ve told you a million times that I can take care of myself. I’m no princess. I’m a cop. A damned good one. Second, I wasn’t afraid of Cyrus then and I’m not afraid of him or Jamison now. That bastard’s not killing me. So back off, Wyatt, and let me take care of myself.”
She stalked down the hall. She bypassed the guest room and went straight to his bed. He could sleep in the guest room or take the couch. His bed was by far the most comfortable.
The rumpled sheets were welcoming. They smelled like him. That shouldn’t have given her any comfort, but it did. She burrowed into the pillows and forced her brain to shut off.
She didn’t want to think. Her mother was gone, and Wyatt was a fool. He’d thrown them away because he couldn’t see the truth. Because he didn’t respect her ability.
Vaguely she heard him come into the room. Heard the water go on in the shower of the en suite bath.
That was the sound that followed her to sleep.
Deeper and deeper she sank.
She tried to fight her way back to the surface, but hands were clutching at her ... pulling her down, down, down.
Adeline struggled against the hands ... felt that familiar pressure settle on her chest.
No!She wanted to live. She didn’t want to die.
Her lungs burned with the need to suck in air. She clenched her jaw. Held her breath.
The hands stopped clutching at her. But the weight remained on her chest, rendering her immobile. Helpless.
The water suddenly cleared. So clear she could see the moonlight shining down through it.
She turned her head to the right. Cherry Prescott lay beside her. Her eyes were closed, and a tiara was tangled in her hair. Adeline shook her head. Almost opened her mouth to scream.
Help me! Please help me!
Her heart pounding, she turned to her left. Penny Arnold lay on that side of her. Eyes closed. Tiara twisted in her long blond hair.
Adeline flung out her arms. Tried to rise up. Couldn’t. Finally, her hands settled atop her head. She felt around. Her fingers curled around something metal. She pulled it free of her hair.
A tiara.
Adeline jerked upright.
Sweat dampened her skin. Her breath heaved in and out of her lungs. She coughed. Dark. Water running. She looked at the clock. 10:56 p.m. She’d been asleep, what? Four or five minutes?
Shit.
She threw back the covers Wyatt must have spread over her and got up. Her legs wobbled, so she took a moment to regain her equilibrium.
Damned dreams.
The bathroom door was open. She peeked past it. Wyatt was in the shower. How the hell had only four or so minutes of sleep allowed that stupid dream?
Her throat felt sand-dry. She needed something to drink. Anything but water.