Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(48)

Billy’s eyes moved between mine, his eyebrows pulling together, like maybe he thought he’d misheard me. “He did? He told you it was safe?”

“Yeah. He said that since I was under his family’s protection and we were married, the Wraiths would leave me alone.”

In a flash, all traces of warmth and softness in Billy’s expression were replaced with barely restrained fury. “He told you . . .” he started, stopped, his breathing now different, shallower. Abruptly, he stood and paced away, limping. He paced back and I wasn’t sure if the grimace on his face was because of his hip or my words. “Ben told you the reason Razor left you alone was because of the McClures? You were under his family’s protection?”

Before I nodded to confirm, I mentally repeated his question, ensuring I wasn’t missing anything. “Yes. I mean, if you think about it, it makes sense, right? Everyone in East Tennessee knows the McClures. If something had happened to me, it wasn’t going to be easily swept under the rug, like when I was just MC trash, living at the compound.”

Billy clamped his jaw shut, staring at me, giving me the sense he wanted to say something but was holding himself back by the smallest sliver of a thread. “That makes no sense,” he finally spoke, his eyes blazing down at me. “You know your father better than anyone, what he’s capable of. Do you really think Razor would’ve given a second thought to cutting down Ben McClure if the mood struck him?”

Standing, I dusted off my backside with my palms, wracking my brain for what I might’ve said that caused Billy’s sudden mood shift. “What other explanation could there be?”

“I can’t believe you trusted him.” He turned away again, pushing the fingers of both hands into his hair. “This is your life.”

“I—yes. But why wouldn’t I? He never gave me a reason not to trust him.”

“Oh. Really?” Billy turned, giving me his profile. Not looking at me, clearly still very pissed off, he seemed to be doing his best to keep his voice steady. “Ben never gave you a reason not to trust him? What about sneaking into your bedroom on your eighteenth birthday and—”

I recoiled, a chill settling over my shoulders. His words felt like a slap. Folding my arms over my stomach, I turned and faced the other wall, needing to clear my throat before saying, “You know, maybe we should be quiet and just wait.”

I heard his footsteps move closer. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t bring this up. But, Scarlet, what he did wasn’t right. He never asked. He just took what he wanted without—”

“Please stop.” I held myself tighter.

Billy exhaled an anguished sounding sigh. “Honey, maybe you never said no, but he never asked. Why don’t you hate him? You should hate him, not yourself. He tricked you into marrying him at fifteen.” The way Billy said this sent shivers down my spine, like it was torn from him and he mourned for me, for the child I was.

“I’ve already explained why I married him at fifteen, you just don’t want to—”

“Yes. Actually, yes. Okay. That makes sense to me now.”

My head whipped around and I peered at him. Agog. WHAT? “It does?”

“Yes.” He nodded, no longer looking angry, only restless. “When I thought about it after, when I calmed down, I understood. Getting married to change your name, to be emancipated, that makes total sense. But what never made sense to me is that you stayed married to him, when you so obviously weren’t in love with him and he treated you like garbage.” Billy lifted his hands, as though he was 100 percent certain he knew what I was thinking. “I know you hate it when I say that, but it’s the truth.”

“Well, he—” I struggled to find the right words. “I was nineteen, okay? I owed his family everything.”

Billy clamped his jaw shut, glaring at me silently.

I huffed, scratching the hot, prickly patch on the back of my neck, glancing over Billy’s shoulder to the elevator doors. “I was nineteen and—and Ben was selfish.”

A moment passed. And then another. The word selfish seemed to bounce off the walls and between us. Now I was breathing funny again, shallow, but not because I was trapped in a room with Billy Winston. It was because I’d finally spoken a notion I’d had for years but felt like a traitor every time I’d thought it.

“What?” Billy’s tone demonstrated the tremendous nature of his incredulity. “What did you just say?”

“Ben was selfish,” I repeated, finding it easier to say the second time. “And spoiled. And arrogantly entitled.”

“What?” He took a step back, like my words crowded him. “What are you—what?”

“I’ve been doing some self-reflection.” Waving my hands through the air in wild circles, feeling oddly harassed, my voice was louder than I’d intended. “I’m working through some things, okay? Trying to be a healthier version of myself.”

“You—you—self-reflection?” He sounded so confused.

“I’ve been going to therapy, if you want to know the whole truth.” Realizing I’d been flapping my arms like a bird, I placed my hands on my hips. “And that’s what I was going to tell you the other day before you told me to ‘keep my distance.’” Because I felt uncomfortable and exposed and therefore salty, I used air quotes.