She squeezed the grand duchess tighter, desperate to keep her suffering and jealousy from spilling over and ruining this happy moment. But fucking hell, talk about hard.
“You okay, Becca?” Summer rushed past with condiments stacked to her chin like she was prepping for a sauce apocalypse and didn’t want to be caught unprepared.
“I’m fine.” She blinked, forcing back her tears while trying to center herself in the moment. “Just tired.”
Unappreciative of the stranglehold Becca had on her, Miss Kitty meowed and jumped to the ground. Then with the attitude of a Russian mafia princess wrapped in an expensive fur coat, she sashayed her butt across the floor, tail twitching like she owned the place.
And fucking hell, it was still hard, but Becca felt the glowing warmth of happiness deep down anyway. She’d never known a group of people like this—individuals with diverse backgrounds fitting together, overlapping, connecting, moving and working together without missing a beat.
No one waited for orders. No one asked for permission. They simply knew what needed to be done, and they did it with the kind of ease and acceptance only a true family possessed.
Family.
Oh God! Panic flooded her system—wild and sharp-edged.
What if one of them got hurt because of Maya? Because of Becca? She wouldn’t survive it. Couldn’t live with the guilt and remorse. How did they do it? Risk losing each other day after day.
She’d seen the results of Grant’s near sacrifice firsthand. Witnessed the devastation, the hurt, the unbearable pain of the people who loved him. Almost losing him had shaken the foundation of their walls.
Her walls weren’t strong enough to endure.
She needed to protect herself. Barricade her heart. Harden her resolve.
“Summer, can you take Halia?”
Maya hadn’t made contact yet, but still, she needed to protect these people from her sister.
“Bec—”
From herself.
“Becca. Look at me.”
Gentle hands cupped her cheeks, lifting her face, and her pulse raced while a cold sweat broke over her skin.
“Focus on me, sweetheart, and breathe.”
Especially Jay. He deserved better. Deserved a woman who could give him children. Barren and broken, she’d never be able to carry his baby again. And what if something happened to him? Everything she’d done had been to keep him safe. Keep him alive. She couldn’t let her guard down now. What if?—
“Rebecca. Look. At. Me.” The command in his tone snapped her back into herself, and when her eyes refocused, she stared into a bottomless black abyss so warm and deep she wanted to crawl inside and hide. “Good girl. Now breathe.” Jay lifted her hand and placed her palm over his heart, pressing it flat with his.
She felt his pulse, strong and steady. Felt his body, warm and reassuring. Registered his lungs filling with air while her own chest expanded with a corresponding inhale. Too embarrassed to look beyond him, she kept her gaze on his. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah, you are.” He wrapped her in a hug, and the slight tremor in his muscles gave him away.
She’d scared him. Made him worry. “Really, I’m okay, Jay.” She patted his back in an awkward attempt to reassure before she let go, stepping to the side to face the group who stood about watching with various expressions of concern. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to space out.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Jamie said, coming over to clap a hand on Jay’s shoulder. “But after dinner, you and I are going to talk about that one thing you agreed to do for me while I remove your stitches. Sound good?”
Jesus Christ. She straightened her spine and rolled her shoulders to try to relieve the discomfort around the site of the incision. How had he known? It’d been itching all day, but after being railed by Jay, it’d gone from a mild annoyance to a full-on prickling irritation. “Sounds good,” she replied, aiming for normal, but sounding a little off-kilter anyway.
“Alright, food’s getting cold,” Adam said, tossing a tea towel over his shoulder, and thankfully, redirecting attention away from her. “Let’s eat.”
“Z, can you help Grant with his tray?” Eve asked
“I can manage,” Grant replied, picking it up.
“Dude, your head’s fucked, and you can barely see. Last thing you need is to take a header down the stairs, so stop being such an asshole.” Cody added a handful of forks and knives to Grant’s load before taking it from his hands and handing it to Zander.
