Page 55 of Painted

Nancy rose as well, glaring at Janice. “Are you responsible for this abhorrent spectacle that insults the memory of my sister?”

“I’m Robert Hawthorne,” Robert stepped forward, as calm as could be. He extended his hand, but Nancy ignored it.

“I suppose you’re the one my brother conned into this money-grab,” Nancy went on.

“If we could all just take a deep breath and discuss things like rational adults,” Robert said.

Early knew him well enough to recognize his style of bringing calm, but it had the exact opposite effect on Nancy.

“Take a deep breath?” she gasped. “You want me to take a deep breath while you lot swan about, desecrating memory of my sister behind my back?”

“Oh, please,” Janice sighed, crossing her arms.

For a change, Early felt more distressed with Robert and Janice in the room instead of less. Rebecca had slipped back into the room, and much to Early’s relief, Rhys was striding quickly across the front hall to join them.

That might not actually have been the best thing, though. Rhys arrived just as Nancy glared back at Janice, gestured to Early, and said, “First you allow this…whatever it is to touch me, and now you’re insulting me for defending my sister’s memory?”

Early could tell by the suddenly furious look on Rhys’s face that he’d heard the insult. He picked up his pace, bursting into the office, all fury and defensiveness, and shot straight to Early’s side.

“What the hell is going on here?” Rhys demanded.

The sharpness of his indignation, especially as he took Early’s hand while glaring at Nancy, had Early feeling like Rhys had just escalated the whole argument instead of making things better.

SIXTEEN

Whoever the womanin the office with the red face and hateful eyes was, Rhys was already determined to dislike her before he got close to the office door and heard her insult against Early. Hearing her refer to Early as “whatever it is” had him fuming as he marched into the middle of whatever argument was going on.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, making a beeline straight to Early and taking their hand.

He didn’t like the anxious look on Early’s face at all. They were distressed by whatever was going on. Rhys didn’t have to know all the details to know that he would move heaven and earth to wipe the strain off of his lover’s face.

And yes, referring to Early as his lover came so naturally and felt so good that he wasn’t going to bother to question his instinct or second-guess his feelings for them.

He wasn’t expecting the woman’s reply, though.

“Are you one of the organizers of this horrific, so-called ‘fundraiser’ as well?” the woman asked, making air quotes around the word “fundraiser”.

It hit Rhys out of nowhere. He’d been dead-set against the fundraiser from the start. It was wrong, frustrating, and had the potential to be every bit as horrific as the mystery woman was raging that it would be. Hearing someone else echo exactly the thoughts he’d had about it from the start left him feeling…he didn’t even know.

“Rhys, this is Nancy Flint, Martin and Mariel’s sister,” his dad explained in the voice that strangers thought was cool and polite, but that family knew meant he was holding onto his temper by a thread. “Nancy?—”

“That’s Ms. Flint to you,” the woman snapped.

“Ms. Flint,” Rhys’s dad corrected himself with a nod, “this is my son, Rhys Hawthorne. He’s one of the principal organizers of the fundraiser.”

Rhys turned a quick frown on his dad at the same time as Nancy zeroed in on him with a dark scowl. Since when was he one of the principal organizers?

“I want this travesty stopped at once,” Nancy said, as if she was just getting started with her argument. “The only reason my brother is doing this is to make money. He’s a self-serving, heartless prick.”

Rhys intended to cut off her acid complaint, but hearing her opinion of her brother stopped him short. He just stood there for a moment with his mouth open.

“I can assure you,” his dad picked up the slack, “this fundraiser is in the very best of taste, and every cent of the proceeds will go to the Campaign Against Drink Driving.”

“I don’t care what cause you think you’re supporting,” Nancy fired back, not even a little appeased. “You’re profiting off my sister’s death, and I won’t stand for it.”

Every part of Rhys wanted to fight back in the face of the sort of aggression Nancy was hurling at him. He’d known about her and her objections to the event in theory, but seeing it in personand feeling the intensity of her emotion had him ready for a battle.

Except he recognized the glassiness of her eyes, the slight quiver of her bottom lip, and the agitated way she stood.

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