“Do you understand me?”
“Aye.” Another sigh.
“We’ll get that book back. We’ll prevent it from being published.”
“Fine,” she says on a sob. “But you do realize that this is my livelihood, don’t you? You can’t just… take it all away.”
“It wasn’t your story to tell.”
She’s crying freely now. She’s given me the truth that I need for now. Next, I’ll have to get the novel from publication and see what else she’s done.
She buries her face in one of the pillows and sobs. Her shoulders shake, and her whole body trembles. I feel like a total arse.
I’ve done my job though.
For now.
I thread my belt back through the loops on my trousers.
It’s late. The sun’s set long ago, and the moon rises now above the mountains, casting a whitish glow on the ground below.
I kneel on the bed beside her.
“Come here.” My voice is gruffer than I intend. I hate that I’ve had to punish her. I hate that she’s brought this on herself. And what the hell am I supposed to do with the knowledge she gave me?
“Don’t tell your brothers,” she sobs. “Don’t tell Islan and Paisley. I’ll pull the books, Tate. I won’t publish any more of them.” She cries even harder. “But I don’t want to lose everything at once.”
She breaks into a fresh round of tears. This isn’t her. Fran isn’t the girl that cries easily. When she was young, I once saw her break her leg when the girls were playing, and she gritted her teeth and never shed a tear.
We witnessed the burial of her father.
Not a tear.
But now… something’s broken inside her, and she can’t seem to stop the torrent of tears.
I shift on the bed to sit beside her and drag her over to me.
“C’mere.”
She pushes me away.
“I said come here,” I tell her, more insistent this time.
She looks up at me, her eyes swollen and red, and shakes her head. “I don’t want to be near you right now. I don’t want anything to do with you. What do you want with me now?”
I frown at her. “I want you here. You come here now, because I told you to.”
She shakes her head. I roll my eyes, reach for her, and yank her over to me, but she holds herself apart, her body tight, and shakes her head.
“I won’t.”
“You won’t what?”
Her voice trembles. “Let you comfort me.”
“You will.” I stroke my hand gently down the length of her back, then back up again. “I’m not angry with you anymore. I punished you, but you earned it.”
“You’re mean.”
