Page 113 of Dead Serious with Benefits
“Who?”
“The woman who had originally been serving us? She had been out of sight when they invaded the house and started taking people hostage. She hid in a servant’s access that the house apparently has and waited until the coast was clear, then tripped the silent alarm. According to Matilda, the poor woman was incredibly apologetic for going into hiding. My mother apparently offered her a job if your mother was, and this is a direct quote, “enough of a meanspirited bitch” to fire her.”
“Never has my mother been more correct than when she said it was best that she not be left alone withyourmother,” he said with a laugh. “God, I would almost pay to see it, but I don’t want poor Matilda to end up in prison. Your family would never forgive me.”
“Probably not,” I said, unable to help the little smile at the thought of the two being left alone.
He peered up at me, dark circles under his eyes. His color hadn’t recovered yet, but his gaze was sharp, searching. “How are you?”
“I’m quite tired, I’ve been waiting for you to wake up forever,” I told him.
“No, I mean...how are you? Really.”
“Oh.”
I thought about it, then shrugged. “I wish the night hadn’t happened the way it did, but I know it could have been much worse. There were injuries, yours and Devon’s being the worst, but?—”
He shook his head. “Only you would mention him among the injured. You do recall that he tried to kill all of us, right?”
“I know,” I said and left it at that. I understood why no one felt any compassion or sympathy for him, considering he really had tried to kill all of us and had come close with Ward. At the end of the day, I was unable to hate him for what he had done, and certainly couldn’t hate him for what could have been. The loss of his sister had been hard on him; actually, I think it was closer to say it had been world-shattering. I didn’t know what kind of life he had before his sister’s suicide, but I would bet that if I did a bit of digging, I would find a long history of mental and emotional trouble or a lot of abuse.
Life was...messy. It was painful and could break a person as easily as it could build them up. Perhaps once upon a time, he was someone who could have risen above the loss of his sister, or maybe he had been doomed from the start. It was a lot like Amelia; she had chosen her path, but what stories could she tell that might illuminate the influences in her life that hadn’t come from those choices? What if there had been someone for her, like she’d said, I was there for Ward? Might she have found a way to harden the rock lining her heart, or would she have always been the woman she was? Or would that sort of kindness andunderstanding have weakened her, put her at odds with what she believed she should be, to the point that it broke her?
That was the thing about life: you could never predict where it would take you, or how you would react to the things you were put through. The water that hardened the egg also softened the potato, and there wasn’t much you could do to change it. Sometimes you were the egg and sometimes you were the potato. For me, it was important to keep that in mind when dealing with people, if only because you never knew when you would need someone who could look at you with compassion and understanding.
“I’m just glad I didn’t have to take anyone’s life,” I said softly and shrugged.
The hard look on his face softened, and he turned my hand over to trace the lines on my palm. “Even after everything, you’re still trying to find the good, aren’t you?”
“You know as well as I do that people aren’t good or bad. They’re a mix, all crammed into one mind to deal with the stresses and tribulations of being alive. I’m glad I didn’t have to kill a man who was just...broken. But I would have done it if I had to,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “There was a moment when I...attacked him. When I got the weapon away from him. Something woke up inside me, and I never want to feel that again, do you understand? It was an ugly, nasty thing that would have convinced me to do all sorts of things in the name of defending my parents, myself...and you. I don’t want to be that person, Ward. So yes, maybe the only way for me to cope with that feeling and how awful it was is to feel compassion for him, to feel some understanding.”
“I’m not condemning you,” he said softly. “If anything, I respect the hell out of it. I don’t think I could have done what you did. Not the way you saved us, and not finding it in your heart to be compassionate.”
“Better not to think about it too hard,” I told him with a shrug. “What’s done is done, and we can’t change anything.”
“True,” he said, closing his eyes. “I have to be honest. I’m all for new experiences, but I can’t say I’m a fan of getting shot.”
“Did you forget that I was shot already?”
“What? Oh come on, that doesn’t count, the bullet barely grazed you.”
“It took a chunk out of my arm.”
“Barely.”
I sighed. “I see any sympathy for the damage I took in place of you for all those attempts on your life is overshadowed by the fact that you nearly died.”
“Yeah,” he said with a grin, and then it faltered. “Do you think that would happen to you?”
“What?”
“If you lost a sibling like that, like he did.”
I paused and shook my head. “No, I don’t think I would have gone down the same path Devon did. We don’t know their relationship, but I remembered seeing in the write-up for her that they were twins. That...well?—”
“You’re thinking of Moira and Mason.”
“Yes. I asked them once what it would be like if they lost the other in some accident or just...anything. I expected jokes, which I got, but I got serious answers too.”
