But now that it wasn’t, she wasn’t certain she knew how she felt.
With shaking fingers, she reached up to touch her scalp. It didn’t hurt any longer, but it felt…rough. Hard. That was the scabbing fading to scars, she knew. She knew it logically—she’d read enough on the subject, or rather, Lyon, who had lived through this same process himself, had read it to her.
But there was a difference between reading about something and living it.
“Oh, Bonnie,” whispered Tiffany. “Your beautiful hair. I am so sorry.”
Ember’s hand closed over Bonnie’s shoulder, offering her strength. “How doyoufeel about it?”
“I do not know,” Bonnie answered truthfully. “I will have to get used to it.”
“If we had to choose between your hair and your life, I am glad you are bald,” Ember admitted.
Grinning, Bonnie agreed. “If I had to choose between my hair and my manuscript, I would still choose my book.”
She had, hadn’t she? Plunging into that inferno for her life’s work.
And Lyon had saved her.
Yes, he’d saved her and her manuscript, but hadn’t been able to save her future, the publishing house.
Tiffany must’ve seen the sadness in her eyes because her sistertskedloudly. “We will start a new fashion, Bonnie. Turbans will become all the rage once we three start wearing them!”
Leave it to Tiffany to consider fashion. Bonnie flicked a glance up at Ember.
“Turbans and engraved evening slippers. Between the three of us, we will change Highland fashion forever!”
When Ember leaned down to hug her, Tiffany heaved herself up out of her chair and joined them, wrapping her arms around them both and pressing her pregnant belly into Bonnie’s side.
And Bonnie embraced them both in return, knowing no matter what the future brought—no matter what Lyon wasn’t telling her—they would always have each other.
The bath felt delightful, if a little awkward. Bonnie was stiff and sore from being immobile for so long, but the hot water was a delightful balm. Her sisters kept up a running commentary, making her chuckle, right up until the moment she brought up Lyon.
“Have you brought me any new gowns to wear?”
Tiffany frowned. “Yes, but what does it matter? You will just be getting back into bed, will you not?”
Bonnieknewshe ought to do just that and allow her body to rest. But she felt as if she’d been resting forever and knew she needed other things more.
“I need to find Lyon.”
Ember was patting her arms and shoulders dry but froze at her words. “Why?” she asked, her voice a little strangled.
“Because I need him. I need to talk to him.”
“About what?” Tiffany asked sharply.
Bonnie turned to face them both, taking the towel from Ember’s limp fingers and patting at her tender scalp. “I need to talk to him about the future.”
“Your future? Or his future?”
Frowning at Ember, Bonnie shrugged. “Ourfuture. My goals—my dreams—burned along with my hair. But he knows how I feel about him, and I need to know how he feels about me. I need to know that before I can start thinking of any new goals and dreams.”
Tiffany nodded thoughtfully. “You mean your publishing house?”
“Tiffany!” hissed Ember, sending their sister aSignificant Look. “You know you are not supposed to…”
Bonnie sighed. “I am tired of everyone walking on eggshells around me. I want—no, Ineed—to see Lyon.”
