Page 56 of Tabitha

She seems both confused and hopeful.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod. “But maybe you should continue to practice. Just with the guys on the team, though. Until you get it right.”

She chews on her bottom lip for a moment, indecision in her eyes. “You’re sure? I don’t want to put anyone in danger. If it’s a distraction—”

“It’s fine.” I flash her a strained smile. “And you need the practice.”

With a mournful sigh, Tabitha just nods, like she knows that she failed.

It’s official—I’m an ass and a coward.

I’ve been so worried about her getting close to us that I hurt her.

My sister would be ashamed.

“I had a younger sister once. An Irish twin. There wasn’t even a full year between us when she was born.” I wait for her to speak, but she just gives a distracted hum under her breath. I take a seat across from her, watching Tabitha to keep from being pulled back into the horrors of my past.

“She was murdered during a night out with her girlfriends, shot and killed when she interrupted a robbery at a local convenience store where she stopped to pick up some cash.” I tighten my grip on my knees, a toxic mess of anger, pain, and nausea swirling in my stomach as pictures from the police report flash through my head. “If I hadn’t been off playing soldier, I could have protected her. I could have—”

“Doubtful,” Tabitha mutters as she assembles the different pieces of the bomb into a plastic case.

My chest tightens with barely controlled rage at her easy dismissal. “What?”

“You’re an ass. You’ve probably been an ass since the day you were born. Your sister couldn’t have missed it. You’re very obvious about it. If she is anything like you, the instant she became an adult, she would’ve insisted on having her own place, going out on her own.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I snap, feeling defensive and exposed, the sting of her words hitting hard.

Tabitha glances up at me, then sighs as she pulls off her glasses and leans back in her seat. “You’re so focused on blaming yourself for her death that you’re not taking all the facts into account.”

Everything inside me stills, like a bomb waiting to go off. “What facts?”

“The other guys make it sound like you’re smart. You do computers and stuff. You must have done the math. What are the chances that, if you had been home, she would’ve asked you to go out with her girlfriends? From my understanding, no boys are allowed on girls’ night. How would you have protected her?”

I shoot to my feet, slamming my hands on the table. “I could’ve given her money, and she never would’ve stopped at the store in the first place.”

“So she was in the habit of taking money from family?” Tabitha’s brows furrow, as if she’s trying to figure out a puzzle piece. “Because if she’s as independent and stubborn as you, she wouldn’t borrow money from her big brother when she could just stop and pick up cash on her own.”

Needing to distract myself from the urge to strangle the infuriating woman, I push away from the table in sheer frustration and begin pacing the length of the room, running my fingers through my hair. “I could’ve been their designated driver. I could have driven them to the bars.”

I glare down at her, daring her to try and refute me.

“And she would’ve asked you to stop anyway, just so she could give you money for gas.” Tabitha lifts her hands and shrugs.

I scoff and cross my arms, pissed that she would even suggest a thing. “I would’ve never asked her for money.”

“Which is why she wouldn’t have told you why she needed to stop.” She nods, like her logic is irrefutable. “You were doing her a favor. She would’ve wanted to pay you back for your trouble.”

I grip the back of the chair, exhausted from talking about my sister.

It’s been years, but the wound has never healed.

“Your sister would never have wanted you to blame yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.” Tabitha doesn’t look up as she begins putting away her supplies. “You’d probably accepted that you might die going off to war, soldiers die, but your brain just couldn’t process the loss of someone who was supposed to be safe at home.”

“She never should’ve died.” All the anger that’s been keeping me going is gone, leaving me feeling gutted, and I do nothing as Tabitha clears the table and tucks her bomb under her arm.

“No, she shouldn’t have died.” She comes to a stop next to my side, then hesitantly reaches out and squeezes my arm. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll help you hunt down her killer and get rid of the body.”

I can’t help it—I tip my head back and laugh. She acted so normal for a second that I completely forgot she isn’t exactly sane…and I’m beginning to see why the other men are so fascinated by her.

---