Vicious Carousel (Suncoast Society #25)(35)

She also knew that feeling likely wouldn’t last. Ted had warned her to be ready for mood swings.

Tilly had also come by with another present, a Kindle, on which she’d purchased and downloaded over a dozen books Ted had recommended Betsy read to help her on her recovery journey.

So now she had homework, in addition to her job search.

And she was now texting back and forth with her mother and father. Which was a miracle in and of itself, since her father wasn’t big on texting. They had wanted to pay to fly her up to visit them, but Betsy didn’t want to do that yet. It would be too easy to let them talk her into moving in with them and staying and letting them take care of her.

That was something she knew she couldn’t do. Visiting them would have to wait until she was strong enough to take care of herself. Her life—what was left of it—was here in Florida. She didn’t want to leave Florida. She was reconnecting with friends here now, and didn’t want to derail that fragile, tenuous progress.

Tilly driving, they met Loren and Eliza for lunch. Betsy still had the sunglasses and hat, but today she’d tried applying the makeup herself and managed it without too many problems.

She felt somewhat self-conscious, but having her friends there to talk to made a huge difference and allowed her not to worry about if anyone was looking at her and wondering if she had been beaten up.

“Tomorrow,” Tilly said, “June will be there. I have to meet with Leigh about going out to LA. I can’t put that off any longer. But you’re going to be in good hands.”

“And you have me on Thursday,” Eliza said.

“And me on Friday,” Loren volunteered.

“Saturday and Sunday,” Tilly added, “the guys have said they’ll be home with you all day, so no worries there. Next week, Eliza will take over arranging the schedule. You can text and call me anytime. Unless I’m on a plane, in which case I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“I won’t let you down,” Betsy swore. “I’m going to work my ass off and get back on my feet. I promise.”

“That’s all we ask,” Tilly said. “Because we want to see you succeed.”





On Wednesday, June arrived before the men left for work. Betsy didn’t know her very well, but knew she was a trusted friend of the others.

That meant, by default, June already had Betsy’s trust.

Betsy was done trying to figure out who to trust and who not to trust. There was a clearly delineated circle of friends in the Suncoast Society munch group who knew and trusted each other. That was good enough for her. If someone wasn’t well-established within that strict circle, Betsy would give them a wide berth, no matter now nice and friendly they seemed.

Hell, at this point, she was ready to give Tilly and Eliza full control over her selections in play and romantic partners for the rest of her life. She’d obviously failed miserably—dangerously so—at her first attempt to enter the BDSM dating pool. Yes, she’d done okay playing, but when crossing the boundary from play to having more she’d once again screwed up.

The next time could kill her if she messed it up as badly as she had this time. Hell, she was probably lucky she wasn’t dead.

At least now she had her parents back in her life. More guilt there, that they’d been so worried about her all these months. There was relief that Jack had not talked to them at all.

But it left a bad taste in Betsy’s throat that she’d had to admit to her parents there was a possibility Jack might one day send pictures of her to them. She didn’t go into detail, and they didn’t ask, but they made it clear that if it happened, they’d simply report him to the cops for it.

And they wouldn’t love her any less for it, either.

After June helped her with her shower, she had Betsy dress in the yoga pants, sneakers, and a tanktop and they headed south.

“Where are we going?” Betsy asked.

June smiled. “Mental health day.”

Betsy recognized the turnoff for the northern road to Manasota Key. June bypassed the northern public beach and stopped at the middle one, called Blind Pass Beach, which was nearly deserted.

“Come on.” She grabbed two yoga mats from her trunk and led the way across the road from the parking lot to the boardwalk traversing the dunes and down to the sand.

“I don’t know yoga,” Betsy said as June rolled the mats out onto some firm sand above the high-tide debris line. The water was calm, slow rollers gently lapping at the sand, with only two other people walking along the beach several hundred yards south of them. On a weekday, they had it to themselves.

“We’re not doing yoga,” she said, adjusting an odd bulge under the right rear side of the waistband of her shorts.

“What’s that?” Betsy asked.

June smiled. “Insurance.”

Betsy must have looked confused.

“I have a concealed carry permit,” June said. “If you think I’m going to stand watch on someone and not carry, think again.”

“Does Tilly know that?”

June snorted. “Of course.”

June helped Betsy down onto one of the mats. After helping her kick off her sneakers, June took the other mat and sat there, putting her legs into a lotus position.

“I don’t expect you to copy me exactly,” June said. “Just do what you can.” She rested her hands on her knees. “Close your eyes and listen to me. Take a deep breath in and hold it before letting it out…”