Page 66 of Grant’s Heat

We both burst out laughing at my comment, but I sobered quickly, feeling guilty for talking badly about my sister. I loved that woman with my whole heart. I truly did.

“You know I love her, right?”

“Of course I do,” Hannah assured me. “You’re just venting, and I get that. I have four sisters, so I know what it can be like.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Trust me.”

“Four more little golden goddesses are running around this town who look like you? Girl!” I whistled. “How has your poor daddy not had a heart attack?”

“Actually, he’s had two already. But that’s just from his workaholic habits and his love of fast food.”

We were back inside the kitchen, and I repeated “Fast food?” and clutched my heart like she just told me my baby was ugly.

Hannah held up her hand in a stop gesture. “I know, I know.”

We laughed again and got to work on the day’s menu. The other women arrived soon after, and the usual tension that came in the door with Abbigail settled over the kitchen.

Later, while dumping a large pot of pasta into a strainer, my tired muscles finally failed me, and I lost my precarious grip on the handle, spilling scalding hot water over my wrist and forearm.

“Motherfucker!” I bellowed but finished draining the pasta. Immediately, I turned the tap to lukewarm water, thrust my arm under it, and buried my face in the crook of my uninjured arm. I swayed my hips from side to side, trying desperately to absorb the pain with the movement, but I really wanted to scream more. The pain was so intense.

Abbi and Dori rushed to my side to help.

“Hey…” Dori soothed. “Hey, Rio? You okay? Can I see it?” she asked gently.

“It’ll be fine. Just a stupid burn. Happens all the time,” I said from my hiding place. I knew my face was tear-streaked, and I didn’t want to see either of them at the moment.

“Sister, can I see?” Abbi whispered from my other side while gently stroking my back. Her touch felt more painful than the burn. At least it took my mind off the scald. “Let’s see if we need to get you some medical attention, okay?”

Twitching away from the contact, I said, “No, Abs, it’s fine. How many times have we burned ourselves? I can tell by the way it feels. Please. You guys, just back up. Let me breathe for a sec.” Hopefully Abbi heard the panic rising in my voice. She knew me well enough to pick up on my cues at this point.

I watched Dori’s shoes move away in my limited line of sight, but Abbigail’s were still planted directly beside me.

“That means you too,” I finally growled when she remained beside me. I didn’t even recognize my own demon-possessed voice when I issued the warning. Abbi instantly took a step back but still not far enough. With each second that passed, the pain in my arm morphed into a rage in my gut.

So fucking typical—these Sharks. Always thinking they knew what was best for everyone. Had to take control of every situation. She was just like him now—the puppet master at every fucking event.

I stood up and shut the water off. The tender skin on my forearm was an angry scarlet. Second-degree burns—probably nothing worse. I didn’t see any blisters in my quick examination. The minute the water stopped flowing over the injury, though, the agony intensified, but it just fueled my rage even further.

“Let’s get you some help.”

“You’ve been dying to say that, haven’t you?” I snarled.

“What?” Abbi asked, bewildered.

“I know that’s what you think. I know that’s what everyone thinks,” I said, backing away from her.

“Rio,” she cooed. Her voice was sickening and gentle. “I meant for your arm. But if you want to talk about something else, why don’t we”—she pointedly looked around the kitchen, and I followed her movement—“go outside.”

“What? You don’t think everyone knows I’ve lost it? You don’t all talk about me when I’m not here? Please!” I shouted.

“Rio. Stop this. No one talks about you. We all just want to see you, well…happy.”

“Fuck off, Abbi. Fuck you all, actually. Take your happiness and your wellness and go fuck yourself with it.”

I started laughing like I was certifiable. God, that felt so good to finally say. I’d wanted to tell this woman to go fuck herself for so long. I stormed over to the desk to grab my keys and purse. I needed to get the hell out of the building before I really did or said something I’d regret.

Might be a little late for that sentiment.

But when I spun back around to head toward the door, Abbigail stood in the way. Her giant green eyes brimmed with tears, and shit you not, her lower lip actually quivered. There were times I thought the woman practiced this pitiful routine in the mirror. Was anyone really this emotional?