“No. Stop. I don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t either.”
“I need to calm down.” I want away.Away.I can’t be here, in this spotlight. I need to get away.
August lowers his hands as though facing a wild thing and swallows thickly. “Okay.”
But he doesn’t go. He just stands there. They’re all just standing there. Watching me.
My skin crawls.
“Alone.” I hold up a hand, warding him off. “I need to be alone for a while. Please, August. Just... go out or something.”
“Or something.” He blows out a hard breath. “Sure, Pen.”
I can’t stay another second. Biting my lip to keep from crying, I flee the room.
Thirty-Seven
August
“You okay, man?” March peers at me from the stern of Jan’s bass boat. We’re currently drifting around in the middle of the lake. Pretending to fish. Because I’d been ordered out. Except neither of us really knows how or actually wants to fish at the moment.
“That was a hard hit,” he adds with a frown.
No shit. A five-foot-six pissed-off woman knocked me flatter than any hulking linebacker ever could. I swallow thickly and flick at the tab of my coffee thermos. It’s supposed to be temperate here, but the lake is freezing today.
“Pen had a hard time accepting my help from the get-go. She didn’t want anyone to think she was taking handouts from me.”
“She’s got to know that you don’t see it that way.”
“I think she does. But too many people, including our sisters, assumed she was too.”
“The hell they did.” March glares back in the direction of Jan’s house where, presumably, our sisters are. Somehow, I doubt Pen kicked everyone out of the house. Just me. “What the hell, August?”
Icy wind sweeps down over the tree line, rustling the leaves and rippling along the water. I hunker deeper into my parka. “They didn’t put her down for it, just assumed our associationcame with financial benefits for Penelope. We set them straight, but the fact is Iamhelping her.”
With a sigh, I make a pointnotto look back at the house. “It chafes her regardless, but all of that was relatively private. Until her fucko father put it out to the world.”
“Fucking bastard.” March tosses his gloves on the seat by him and roots through our snack pack. He rips open a bag of chips with a vengeance. “The guy always was a colossal dick bag.”
We clink coffee thermoses in agreement.
“Point is, what was once a sore spot is now an open wound.” And she won’t let me help her heal. That hurts the worst. Not that she needs some time alone, but that she ordered me to go away. As though I was part of the problem.
“I’m part of the problem,” I say aloud. Yep, sucks just saying it.
“Oh, bullshit.” March gives me an irate look. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m all over this. Doesn’t matter if my intention wasn’t to hurt her. She’s still hurt.”
“By her selfish dick-weasel dad! Not you.”
March’s immediate and wholehearted defense of me is gratifying. But it also makes me feel worse. Because he doesn’t know the whole picture. No one does.
“If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have this particular hurt going on.” For the first time, I truly understand Jelly’s desire to put some distance between himself and his girl, if only to ease the fodder their relationship gives the public. But, no, it’s worse. Pen was assaulted too. All because of me.
Absently, I rub the aching hollow behind my breastbone.
