Page 94 of Resist

“I don’t need Phoenix at my door with a machete. Let her know you’re okay, and come back here. Please.”

It takes her a couple of minutes to locate her phone on the floor from the pocket of her still damp hoody. I didn’t think about drying her clothes last night, probably should have, but I just needed her body against mine. That was all that mattered.

It’s not long before she curls up in my arms and settles again. “I don’t know what to do. I’m a mess.”

I stay quiet in case she needs time to process her feelings.

“I want to be mad at you. I want to be incandescent with rage, but the more I think about it, the more I get it. In fact,” She slaps a hand on the quilt. “I’d have fucking killed him. If Dad was alive and Mom said he hurt her, I’d have killed him and had Phoenix and Madeline help me bury his body.”

She drops her head back against my shoulder. “If your dad had hurt my mom, I’d have killed him, and maybe even you for good measure if you tried to stop me.”

Shaking her head, she sighs. “As you can see, I have some anger to work through.”

“Your anger is valid. He wasn’t the man you thought he was, and that hurts.”

“He hurt Maddie.” Her voice catches, fragmenting as the words come out.

I clench my jaw but stay quiet. I shouldn’t be surprised to discover that he hurt someone else, even someone so close to his own daughter.

“He hurt my best friend, Sterling. My dad. My hero. H-h-he hurt her.” She dissolves into another round of tears, and it’s all I can do not to get in the car, dig up the fucker’s body, and let her use it as a punching bag.

If anyone ever makes her cry again, I’ll kill them.

I hold her until the wave passes, crashing into the shore and going back out to sea.

“I don’t know what to do.” Her stomach growls, making her cheeks turn pink.

I kiss each of her heated cheeks. “I know what we’re going to do. We’re going to eat, and then we’ll figure everything else out. Can’t do anything on an empty stomach, Corabelle.”

CHAPTER 37

Cora

Sterling pushesfood around his plate while I inhale my cinnamon rolls, fruit, and turkey bacon. It would seem crying works up quite an appetite.

“I fired Michael.” It’s very unladylike to speak with food in my mouth, but I don’t care.

Sterling’s brows flex. “You did?”

I nod. “Kind of. I told him he was fired, and if he didn’t take himself the fuck out of my company I’d destroy him. Then I called the cops.”

Sterling beams. “Good. I bet he shit his pants.” He picks up a strip of bacon and nibbles on the end. “Bastard deserves everything he gets.”

“I’ve been trying to decide whether taking over the publishing house is what I even want to do.” The sentence hangs in the air between us for what feels like an hour before I take another bite. “I always wanted to take over, partly because it’s what Dad wanted, and partly because it’s something I’ve always dreamed of doing. But was it really my dream? Or was it just his? And when he died, I thought it could be my opportunity to leave, to sell it or give it to Michael and do somethingelse. What, I’m not sure, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“And now?” He’s still gnawing on the same piece of bacon.

I sigh. It’s a question I’ve been asking myself since I walked in and found Sterling knee-deep in my documentation. “I think my desire to take overwasmy own. I love the publishing industry. I love the business my family has built up over the years. I love books, I love reading, but I want to elevate more indie authors to a wider audience. I want to branch out from the traditional publishing and shine a light on the indies, to help break some of the stigmas attached to that space. And just because taking over the family business is what Dad wanted for me, doesn’t mean it can’t also be what I’ve wanted for myself.”

He nods. “That’s true. But I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming.” He’s astute, this one.

“But I don’t love what it’s become. I don’t love the smears and scars on the company that Dad and Michael left behind.”

He hums, holding me with those crystalline blue eyes. “I’m so envious of you, Corabelle.”

I tilt my head to the side as I scrunch up my face.

He holds a hand up. “Not because of this thing with your dad, but because you know yourself and what you want from your life.”

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