Page 43 of Even if It Hurts

“Because he was everything to me for so long,” she finally whispered. “And when he no longer was, I felt like it was my fault because I was hiding something.” Those stormy eyes shifted to me. “Sometimes I still do, but sometimes I think I’m only with him because I’ve listened to everyone plan my future with him my entire life.”

Was it twisted that hope was pounding through my veins?

I hardly knew her. Sheneededto be nothing more than my employee. And yet, anticipation became a living thing inside me as I selfishly hoped for the end of someone else’srelationship.

Just as guilt started unfurling in my chest, ice pushed through my veins when the elevator chimed, alerting me someone had arrived when no one should be coming.

In less than a second, awareness spread over my skin as I thought of the potential causalities currently in my apartment and how much time we had. In the next, I was pushing Lainey’s chair back with my foot as I reached under the table for the handgun I had strapped there.

“Get behind the island,” I hissed.

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Go,” I bit out as I freed the gun and twisted out of my seat, already reaching to turn off the kitchen lights as I went.

But no sooner had I started slipping up beside the edge of the breakfast bar than I heard my sister asking, “What is all this?”

I stalked toward the front of the apartment, my voice gruff and demanding when I snapped, “What are you doing here?”

She unsteadily rounded the corner of the foyer and glared up at me. “Hello to you too.”

“I thought you left.”

She gestured around us. “And now I’m back.”

I ground my jaw and forced myself to take a deep breath before clarifying, “For New York. You disappeared after the funeral and weren’t here when I got back. And how did you get up here?”

Before she could respond, I stormed back to the kitchen. Flipping on the light once I was there, I found Lainey standing on the far side of the island, looking so confused.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, gesturing from my chest to the front of the apartment. “Unless I tell the managers someone’s coming, I’m supposed to be notified before they let anyone up. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“So, your first reaction is to grab a gun and go after whoever it might be?”

My eyebrows rose at the stunned question. “Do you have any idea what I do?”

“No,” she said on a breathless laugh as if I hadn’t saved her life less than a year ago.

I nodded slowly, mentally noting I needed to have another talk with Lainey about protecting herself, only to shake my head and pin my sister with a suspicious glare. “Howdidyou get up here?”

Her inebriated gaze shifted between Lainey and me a few times before she held up a keycard. “Some guy handed me this when I told him what floor I was staying on.”

I bit back a sigh and erased the distance between us to snatch the keycard from between her fingers. “He must’ve thought you were Lainey.”

“Who?” she said with a snort.

“Lainey,” I repeated irritably, gesturing to the girl who was all wide eyes and confused expressions as she awkwardly lifted a hand and said, “Me.”

Every part of me locked up when my gaze automatically skated over her and caught on the way the bottom of her shirthad ridden up at some point, showing a small strip of her lean stomach and revealing a bruise blooming on her hip.

It could’ve been from anything; I knew that. But I was struggling to unclench my jaw and make myself believe that, when Lainey had just told me about her unstable relationship with her angry boyfriend—when she’d been crying this morningbecauseof him.

“Right...thenanny,” Peyton said, forcing my attention away from Lainey to see the dry look my sister was giving me. A long, intoxicated laugh bubbled from her. “Do you always have cozy dinners with your nannies?”

“I should go,” Lainey whispered.

“No,” I said to her, nearly begged, before focusing on my sister again. “Eat something, then take a shower and go to sleep. You smell like a bar.”

“Aww.” She placed a hand on her chest as if treasuring a compliment before leaning forward to roughly pat my cheek. “Look at us; it’s just like old times. And would you look at that? I still hate when you tell me what to do.”

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