Page 36 of Craving Consequences
Lauren shrugs, unbothered. “Fine shouldn’t be your goal in life, babe. Fine is what you say about a paper cut or a lukewarm coffee. Not the manchild you’ve chosen to be your ball and chain.”
I slice another lime with too much force. The knife thunks sharply against the cutting board. “You don’t get it,” I mutter, focusing on the neat pile of wedges, the mindless precision of it.
“I get it just fine,” Lauren says, the softness falling away from her voice. “You think sticking it out with him makes you loyal. Makes you a good girl.”
I clench my jaw, refusing to meet her gaze. If I do, I know I’ll lose it.
“You want to know what it really makes you?” she persists. “Miserable.”
The words hang between us, thick and heavy, coiling into the warm summer air like poison.
Before I can summon a reply — before I can stitch together some clumsy defense even I don’t believe — there’s a deep bark of laughter from outside and I glance up on instinct.
Through the wide glass doors, Van and Lachlan stand in a patch of golden light. Van throws his head back, laughing at something Lachlan said. Van’s mouth hooks in a rare grin, his pale eyes crinkling at the corners. He tips his beer bottle toward Lachlan in a mock toast, muscles flexing with the casual motion.
God, they’re beautiful.
And so far out of reach it aches.
I quickly tear my gaze away, guilt gnawing at my insides with sharp little teeth.
Lauren notices.
“Like I said,” she murmurs, dragging the sunglasses down to settle over the bridge of her nose, “you wouldn’t have to look far.”
She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s not a matter of wanting a herd of men to flock to me. It’s about necessity and commitment. Bron will never be the ideal choice, but he’s a choice I made for a very specific reason.
“I’m not interested,” I mutter, busying myself wiping lime juice from my hands, pretending I don’t hear her next mumble of words. Pretending my heart isn’t beating itself bloody against my ribs.
“If you ask me, you picked the wrong Shaw.”
Wrong.
I picked the one most suitable. I picked convenience. Lauren doesn’t understand the cogs and wheels that run a town like Jefferson. She still thinks like an outsider, someone born and raised beyond our confined borders. No one expected her to assimilate with the order of things when she and Van moved to Jefferson after she was fully grown and fully set in her ways.
I still love her. She’s my sister in every way that matters, but this is an area I can’t explain to her. I can’t explain to anyone.
“Hey.” Her small, pale hand settles lightly over mine, ceasing my anxious scrubbing of the countertop with a damp rag. “I’m sorry, okay? I just fucking hate the guy, and I love you so much.”
I draw in a slow breath and face her. “I know. It’s just...”
She gives my fingers a squeeze. “Justlet me kill him.”
Despite the weight, I burst out laughing. Lauren joins in a second later, grinning like she’s proud of herself.
“You’re not killing anyone.” I scrub a tear from the corner of my eye with the heel of my hand. “It’s Jefferson. You so much as threaten violence around here and someone’s great-aunt will organize a prayer circle about it.”
Lauren snorts. “Good. I hope they do. I’ll need all the prayers I can get when I’m burying his useless body in the woods.”
I shake my head, smile slipping into something sadder. “Thanks, though. For having my back.”
“Always, baby girl,” she says fiercely, squeezing my hand once more before letting go. “You don’t have to stay miserable just because you’re afraid of change or small minded gossip.”
Before I can answer, the patio door slides open and a gust of hot, beer-scented air rushes into the kitchen.
“Burgers in five!” Lachlan calls in before shutting the door and turning back to Van.
Lauren perks up immediately. She bounces off her stool with a little hop.
