“Who the hell was that guy anyway?” I ask. “He said he knew me, but I didn’t recognize him.”
Carter drops his gaze for a moment. “He recognized you because of the local newspapers. They had a field day ripping you to shreds after you left.”
“I may have heard something about that. I just never understood why. Stephan and I…we weren’t rich, we weren’t famous, we weren’t Lockwoods,” I say. “So why was my name dragged through the mud like that?”
“People talk, Clara,” Jace sighs, “especially small-town people. Their lives are linear and boring, hence the desire for gossip, for meddling into the lives of others. Stephan was handsome as hell and a former SEAL like us. Folks knew him. Plenty of women wanted him. He had always been popular. You were collateral damage, I guess.”
I find it ironic that plenty of women wanted my brother. Only one woman had him, and she threw him away because she didn’t have the courage to tell the truth. It’s been years, and I am still angry at her. She played a role in Stephan’s death, and the day will come when I will find the courage to confront her.
“Gossip is the life’s blood of small towns,” Damon reminds me. “There’s always a rumor going around about someone.People point fingers. Then they forget and find someone else to chatter about. Rinse and repeat. What happened earlier at that stall won’t happen again, though.”
“It might,” I say.
“Not while we’re around, and Carter set a pretty clear precedent there, with enough witnesses for everyone to understand.”
“Understand what?” I ask Damon.
But it’s Carter who leans forward to answer. “That nobody touches you, Clara, not with a hand and not with a single fucking word.”
I can’t help but laugh, flattered by their determination. Damon’s smile, however, begins to fade as he looks somewhere over my shoulder. I follow his gaze to see a woman with familiar features approaching our table with unsettling confidence.
The shape of her eyes. The bridge of her nose. The round curve of her face.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jace mutters as he spots her.
“Who is that?” I ask.
The woman smiles, locking eyes with Damon as she swings her hips with every step, her athletic figure wrapped in a tight floral-print dress.
“Took me a while to find you,” she says upon reaching our table.
No one seems happy to see her.
On the contrary, Damon is practically seething underneath his calm expression, his grip on my hand tightening without him even realizing it.
“What the hell are you doing here, Elizabeth?” he snaps, his voice low and full of menace.
A split second later, I jump out of my seat, suddenly standing before this woman. Damon’s ex-wife. Shiloh’s mother. My mind races as I think of ways to extract myself from what is likely to become an incredibly uncomfortable situation. I look over to make sure that Jodie is keeping the kids busy and away from us.
“I know it’s been a while,” Elizabeth replies with a strained smile. “I’ve missed you. I miss our daughter, too.”
“That’s fucking rich,” Jace scoffs.
She gives him a sour look. “Nice to see you, too, Jace. Carter, how’ve you been?”
“I’ve been here, helping Damon raise your daughter, among other things,” Carter swiftly replies. Clearly, no one here is willing to entertain whatever dramatically emotional return Elizabeth hoped this might be.
She looks at me, and I remember her from years past. She recognizes me, her red, glossy lips twisting with disgust.
“Clara.”
“Elizabeth,” I reply with a nod.
“You’re back.”
“So are you, it seems.”
She shakes her head while Damon slowly gets up to standbeside me. “Elizabeth, what are you doing here?” he asks again.
