Breaking Her (Love is War #2)(10)

Jesus. It did make me feel overprotective, but . . . "That's beside the point. Regardless of how you feel about that particular subject, do you think you're handling this in a good way? She's out there looking like she might cry because she thinks you don't want to work with her. You need to go apologize, and you need to make it stick."

He cursed, long and fluid. He finished his beer with one long swig, standing up. "Fine. Fine. You're right. I'm an *. I'll go apologize."

He settled his tab and we left.

When we got back to the group, he quietly asked Demi to take a walk with him.

Farrah and Mitch went swimming, and Leona's pilot and Harry went to grab a beer together.

It was just me and Leona sitting side by side, watching the water when she said, "It's so peaceful, isn't it? The ocean, I mean."

Peaceful? I did not find the ocean peaceful. I found it troubling. I didn't see the calm waves or the beautiful water, I only saw the chaos underneath, the dangers lurking in the depths. Riptides, strong currents, high tides. Sharks. Other things that bite and/or sting you.

Today on Scarlett looking at the world with fear and pessimism: Oceans.

It also didn't help that it reminded me of a certain bastard's eyes.

But all I said was, "It certainly gives the world perspective."

Which was true, and yet another thing about the ocean that I hated. If you stared at it for too long, it made you think. Reflect on your life. Your choices. Your state of well-being.

My current state was clearly not well.

My foul mood, uneven temper, and damn near steady drunk. Is that who I was becoming? Fucking Glenda? Was I really letting myself turn into someone I despised? Pitied? And for him?

Not f*cking likely.

"Did you know about Demi getting that part?" I asked Leona.

"Yeah. It's so awesome, isn't it?"

"It is, but I had no clue she even auditioned. I'm such a shit friend."

"Stop that right now," she said sternly. "You are a good friend. The best kind of friend. You found out a few hours later, so what? Who was the first one to get on Anton about being an ass to her? Who was the one that got him to come back and apologize?"

"That's just because I'm good at being the bitch."

"No. No." She was shaking her head. "I don't agree with that. You're a lioness, not a lamb, and you don't need to apologize for it. You're overprotective and fiercely loyal. None of those are bad qualities. They're your strengths and I've always admired you for embracing them.

The best kind of friend is one that makes you feel like a better version of yourself, and Leona was an absolute pro at that. "Thank you," I said quietly. I hadn't been fishing for a pep talk, but I realized just then that I'd sure as hell needed one.





CHAPTER FOUR

"Familiarity breeds contempt."

~Aesop





PAST





DANTE





I was packing for a dreaded overnight stay with my dad in Seattle when I heard my mother yelling.

With a long-suffering sigh, I dropped what I was doing and went to investigate.

Sure enough, there she was, laying into Glenda, Scarlett's grandma, with particular viciousness. My mother was never nice to the staff, but sometimes she got truly out of control. This was a case in point. From what I'd gleaned as I made my way to the yelling pair, Glenda hadn't polished the silver properly, and now Adelaide was rapping her on the forehead, over and over, with a small spoon, each contact punctuated with an insult.

"Useless woman. Why do I keep you around? No one else will hire you, but is that my problem? Some people deserve to be out on the streets."

The older woman was cowering away, looking pathetic.

I used to like the way my mother treated her. It was petty, I know, but it seemed fair with the way she treated Scarlett that she'd get a bit of it back.

But as I grew older, and began to understand a bit more of how humans worked, I became more and more troubled by it. Not because I had much pity for the woman.

It was that every slight she received seemed to only go one place. She never gave it back to my mother.

Instead, she passed it on. To my girl.

"Mother," I said loudly, my tone curt. "Enough. Get away from her."

"Stay out of this," she snarled at me, looking deranged.

"No," I said firmly. "Let the woman do her job and leave her be."

"This woman is too stupid and simple to do her job," my mother told me tremulously, and I wondered which personality I was dealing with today. "That is my problem. This is what I get for hiring trash to clean my house."

"Just stop. Go to your room," I softened my tone, because sometimes that worked with her, though nothing inside of me remained soft toward my mother. She'd stomped out every tender feeling I had for her a very long time ago. "I think you need to lie down. Maybe take something? This isn't like you." That was a lie, but sometimes lies worked with her too.

My mother studied me like I studied her—like she wasn't quite sure how to handle me today.

"Perhaps I will." She dropped the spoon and moved to me, taking my arm. "Walk me. I feel a bit weak."