I ignore the sliver in my heart reminding me that Daphne and Bea have a connection that I don’t because they’re letting me in.
They’re letting me into this connection.
Daph nudges me. “So do you want to sit on the porch with us one day and tell whoever’s grandkids about how you bossed up and took a chance at falling in love with a man who turned your insides to goo and made your world bright and amazing and beautiful, or do you want to sit quietly by and know you weren’t brave?”
“One, rude. And two—” I suck in a shaky breath, because two matters more. “Two, I don’t want to hurt him.”
She shrugs. “Hurting the people you love is inevitable because we’re all fucked up in our own ways, and it’s impossible to love someone without showing them all of your sides. But when it’s real love—not manipulative love, not controlling love, butreallove—then you take the bad with the good. Love’s not perfect. And that’s why it’s beautiful.”
“How did you get so smart?”
“I had a good teacher.” She grins at Bea. “The best, in fact.”
“I didn’t—” Bea starts.
“Yes, you did,” I say.
“It was definitely all you,” Oliver agrees.
“Thank you,” I add to Bea.
“Sincerely, thank you,” Oliver agrees.
“Dammit, you’re making both of us cry now,” Daphne says as she and Bea swipe at their eyes. “Margot.Call him.”
“I will.” I swallow. Probably. Maybe.
He truly does deserve so much better than me. “But can I handle one crisis at a time? I don’t—I don’t want to wait any longer for what I need to do here. If someone in Snaggletooth Creek slips now that the secret’s out—I can’t risk our parents hurting our brothers. Where’s my phone? I need to call in a few other people for support. I have some work to do, and I need it all done yesterday.”
I flinch at my own words.
“You need it done yesterday to protect people,” Daph says gently. “Margot—thisiswhen it counts. Don’t feel bad for asking for help to do the right thing.”
I throw my arms around my sister and hug her tight.
She’s right. And I have work to do.
30
NOTHING IS RIGHT
Rhys
I feel sonaked with Margot gone that I keep checking to make sure I’m wearing clothes. Can’t sit still. Can’t sleep. Can’t eat.
Decker’s not returning my texts, including the one where I told him I’m not leaving his cabin until he talks to me face-to-face and hears my side of this story.
And my heart—I don’t even know if it exists anymore.
I know I want it to.
I know I don’t want to live through another year of hell like this past one.
But I don’t know what the actual fuck to do to keep my life from feeling like it’s spinning out of control and my heart from giving up and going back into hiding.
So early Saturday morning, as soon as the sun’s up, I’m out back behind the cabin, tackling the last of the logs that need to be split.
Not for Decker.
