Page 23 of For Wrath and Redemption
Her eyes flare, some flash of concern or worry, but then she schools her expression. Nothing but irritation once more.
“It was a private conversation,” she clips, shutting down further questioning, then she changes the subject. “I assume you want to shower?”
I don’t answer right away. Her continued dismissals piss me off.
I stare at her, absorbing every detail. She’s got a full face of makeup on now. The kind women do when they want to look like they’re not wearing any makeup at all. It makes her cheekbones look sharper, her lips plumper, and her eyes bluer. And her hair is straight again, the little curls at the nape of her neck hidden from view. I don’t like that I can’t see those curls.
I bring my eyes back to hers and try to read her. I attempt to gatherany sort of intel I can use, but just like in my hotel room, she gives nothing away. It’s annoying, just like her.
I decide to give up for now. She’ll let her guard down eventually.
I open my mouth to tell her that I do want to shower, but there’s a knock on the door of the suite. I turn without saying another word to Claire and head to the door. When I open it, I find Sav waiting in the hallway.
“Hey. Can I come in?”
I stand aside and sweep my arm into the suite. She’d have come in, anyway. The fact that she asked for permission at all has my nerves sparking.
“What’s up?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest as she takes a seat on the couch.
Instead of answering me, she turns toward the bathroom where Claire is watching from the doorway. Sav waves and gives her a smile.
“Hey, Claire. Is it cool if I talk to Jo alone for a bit?”
“Of course. I need to speak with Mr. Hammond anyway.”
“Thanks,” Sav says, and then we both wait in silence while Claire slips on some heels and leaves the suite.
Once she’s gone and the door is shut, I face Sav.
“What do you want?” My defenses are up, and I’m prepping for a fight. The last time Sav asked to speak to me alone was when she’d staged the intervention that got my ass sent to rehab. “Spit it out so I can refuse.”
Her brow furrows with concern. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Her tone is much softer than I’m used to. It’s the opposite of the anger I got from her in New York. I cock my head slightly, assessing her, and she laughs.
“It’s not a trick, Jo. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you in New York. I was tired and worried, and when you seemed apathetic, I got pissed. I’m sorry.”
I narrow my eyes. This is suspicious. “Sav, you’d just bailed me out of jail. I’d committed a felony. Anger is a reasonable reaction.”
She shrugs. “Your mom just died, Jo. You didn’t need anger. You needed support and empathy, and instead, I was a bitch.”
I arch a brow. “When aren’t you a bitch?”
Sav huffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m here to sayI’m sorry. And...I’m here to say that if you don’t want Claire here, we can send her packing.”
I almost jump at the opportunity to get rid of the new ever-present thorn in my side, but I bite my tongue. This would be too easy, and it wouldn’t take care of the other problems.
The label. My father. Myfelony.
“What’s the catch?” I ask slowly, and Sav shrugs.
“No catch. What’s the point of going along with it if it’s just a smoke and mirrors act? It’s a waste of time if it’s not actually going to help. If you think rehab?—”
“Rehab?” I bark out a humorless laugh. “Rehab will put us in violation of the morality clause, Savannah.”
She shrugs again. “We all agree that?—”
“I don’t care what you and everyone else have agreed.Idon’t agree.”
