Page 64 of Shattering

"We were sisters," Cadi said, shaking her head. Her voice cracked on the last word. "And you— you didthisto me."

A lump formed in her throat as memories surfaced—memories of all the times she had been there for Regan. The late-night calls when another boyfriend had let her down. The endless hours spent listening, reassuring, picking up the pieces. The times she had driven across town just to hold Regan while she cried.

She had never questioned it. Never once turned Regan away.

But now, ironically, the one time Cadi had needed Regan to have her back—to stand beside her instead of behind her, whispering doubt—she had failed her.

And that hurt more than anything.

Eila sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. She looked at Regan, disappointment etched deep into her features. "Come on," she murmured. "Let's go."

Regan hesitated, glancing back at Cadi, her expression pleading. "Cadi, I—"

Cadi didn't move, her body rigid, but when she spoke again, her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I can never forgive you for this," she said, her tone devoid of anger now, just hollow. "You have ground my trust into the mud beneath your feet."

Regan's face crumpled.

Cadi swallowed against the lump in her throat and turned away, her hands trembling at her sides.

"No," Cadi cut in, too tired to hear whatever excuse was coming next. "Not right now."

Regan swallowed hard but nodded, her eyes glassy.

Eila gave Cadi a long, sad look before guiding Regan out the door.

As soon as they left, the house felt too big, too empty.

Cadi exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.

Gray was still upstairs.

They had a lot of work ahead.

Chapter 31

Cadi leaned against the edge of the kitchen table, inhaling deeply. The silence that had settled over the house after Eila and Regan left was deafening. She needed a moment—just a moment—to gather her wits before she had to go upstairs and face Gray.

Her fingers pressed against her temples as a sharp ache threatened to creep in. The last hour had been an emotional battlefield, and she felt drained, stripped bare.

Her mind drifted, seeking something—anything—that wasn't the wreckage of her marriage.

Ana.

A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips before it faded. Ana would be back next week.

She missed her—God, she missed her. Ana had been her rock long before Gray ever entered the picture. They had met when they were still in diapers, Ana with her wild curls and mischievous grin, Cadi the more reserved one who somehow always got roped into her best friend's ridiculous plans. They had been inseparable—partners in crime, soul sisters

Her sister from another mister.

It surprised no one that Ana had ended up as an investigative reporter for one of the top media companies in the UK. With her razor-sharp wit and that dry humour that added an unexpected zest to the bleakest of stories, Ana had carved out a name for herself. She had been headhunted early on in her career and had never looked back since.

And then, of course, there was Byron.

The thought of him made Cadi's lips twitch. Byron had gone on to play professional rugby, and last year, he'd been on England's squad for the Six Nations Championship. He was still grumbling about their failure to take the cup, as if personally offended by it.

She could picture him now—brooding over a pint, lamenting England's loss like it was some great injustice, all while being swarmed by women who never quite seemed to realize that he was, for lack of a better word, atotal manwhore.

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