Page 48 of Ace

"I don't think—"

"I'm not paying you to think, Mr. Yarrow. If it truly is Sadie, then we have to bring her home. We have to give her a proper burial."

I don't know where I find the strength to say this without each and every word being released on a sob, but somehow, I manage.

"I'm sorry," I say after hearing the way I just spoke to him.

"It's fine. Listen—"

I hold my hand up in front of him when he takes a step closer to me, but it doesn't stop him from getting in my space.

When his arms wrap around me, I lose it, worse than I did while sitting on the couch.

He holds me while I cry. When I can no longer hold my weight up, he guides me to the sofa and keeps his arms around me like it's the most natural thing in the world for him to comfort a woman after getting the worst news of her life.

Sadie was eleven when my mother died, and as much as I tried not to mother her, it was just the position I was put into by default. I can't helpbut feel like I've lost more than a sister.

I know without confirmation that Sadie is gone. I wouldn't have been given the news if they were still looking for answers. Neither Mr. Anderson nor Eddie seem like the type of men who would tell me something without being absolutely sure their information was correct.

"She's gone," I sob into his chest, feeling the warmth of his kind soul when he holds me just a little tighter.

I don't know how long I stay in his arms, but my eyes feel like sandpaper and I can taste salt when I lick my lips. I have no doubt I look atrocious when I pull back and look up at him. Bless him for not looking like I've overstayed my welcome when he looks back down at me.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "We can make arrangements—"

I shake my head and attempt to swallow down my pain.

"I just need a few minutes," I whisper.

He dips his head as if he understands my need to spend a moment not thinking about all my failures where Sadie is concerned.

Like I did when I claimed the chocolate-covered almonds earlier, I want to be selfish, to take something of my own, regardless of whether this is absolutely the worst time to do so.

I lean in, brushing my lips over his, fully expecting him to press his lips to mine. Who would reject a woman in such an emotionally fragile state?

Eddie Yarrow, apparently, I realize, when he pulls his face back, hands coming up to clasp my upper arms, as if he's afraid he'll need to use force to keep me away. His rejection is enough, and I'm a really fast learner.

I hate the embarrassment heating my cheeks, and I drop my gaze from his.

"Sorry," Imutter, trying to stand, but he keeps his hold on me, preventing me from getting off the sofa.

"That can't happen, Cora," he says, an echo of what he said last night.

He predicted my move then, just as he has done now. Call me a fool for the second attempt, but twice is all it will ever take for me to get the point.

"There's so much to do," I say, trying to distract myself both from him and the reason why I need to get a hold of my brothers.

His hand covers mine when I reach for my cell phone.

"You're right," I say. "This isn't something they should hear over the phone."

"There's more, Cora."

I shake my head, instantly rejecting whatever it is that he's planning to tell me. My heart can't take another hit.

"Sadie was murdered."

It's as if I'm not understanding the words even though they make perfect sense. Had I judged Sadie so harshly that I automatically assumed she had overdosed? I realize in all my questioning, I never once asked how.

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