Gone (Deadly Secrets #2)(40)

She turned for the hallway that led to the bedrooms, leaving them standing dumbfounded in the entryway as her bedroom door slammed shut.

“What the fuck was that?” Alec asked, staring after her.

“That,” Ethan said, “is a woman who has finally had enough.”

When Alec glared at his brother, Ethan shook his head as if he were a moron. “Word of advice? When you go in there to talk to her, like I know you can’t stop yourself from doing, check the attitude at the door. She’s been through hell tonight.”

Fear and a renewed burst of rage spiraled through Alec, draining the blood from his face. “Was she—”

“She’s fine. Already went to the police station and filed a report. Didn’t need to go to the hospital. Some guy roughed her up a little, but that’s it.”

Relief whipped through Alec, but his heart still raced like a thoroughbred, and all he wanted to do was see for himself that Raegan was only bruised and nothing else. He stepped past his brother.

“Whoa.” Ethan’s hand landed hard against Alec’s chest, stopping him from moving more than two steps. “I said she’s fine. But you go in there all fired up like this, and I guarantee she won’t be fine. She’ll be more pissed than she is right now.”

His pulse was a roar in his ears, but a little of what Ethan was saying got through, and he focused on his brother’s green eyes. “Did she say who it was?”

“No.”

He looked back down the hallway toward her bedroom door, fighting the rage building again inside. “We both know who it was.”

“Maybe. But she’s a tough chick. Tougher than you give her credit for.”

She was. Alec knew that.

“Do me a favor and chill out before you go barging in there.”

“Okay.”

“Yes?”

Alec turned a glare Ethan’s way. “Yes, okay?” He shoved at Ethan’s hand, which was still pressed against his chest. “Now back the hell off.”

Ethan released him but still didn’t move. And several seconds of silence passed before he said, “Sucks when they don’t need you, huh?”

Alec’s heart twisted as he looked down the hallway again. It did suck. More than Ethan would ever know. Raegan had never really needed him. He was the one who’d always needed her. He’d just never been able to tell her that. And now it was way too late to even try.

Ethan’s keys jangled in the silence as he pulled them from his pocket. “Too bad that’s not the real problem between you two.” When Alec glanced his way, Ethan moved toward the open door and shrugged. “The real problem is that you never thought you deserved her. Even before you lost Emma. You think you’re like John Gilbert, but you’re not. And until you let go of that kind of thinking, nothing’s ever going to change for you or for her.”

Ethan tugged the door closed softly at his back. His muffled footsteps sounded in the hall, then silence settled over the apartment. But that silence was short-lived as Alec’s pulse sped up, turning to a roar in his ears.

Was Ethan right? Was he the one holding Raegan back from moving on? The tightness in his chest told him yes. He’d agreed to help her because he wanted to make amends, and he couldn’t do that until he fessed up to all his shortcomings, not just his drinking. Because the drinking was really a result of everything else. Of not being able to let go of the past, of not being strong enough to face up to his guilt, of not being able to control his environment.

Nerves curled all through his gut like waves crashing against a beach. On legs not nearly as steady as he liked, he crossed to Raegan’s door, lifted his hand, and knocked. No answer came from inside, so he reached for the door handle and turned.

The bedroom was empty. Water sounded from the adjoining bathroom, indicating she was in the shower. He debated his options, knew he needed to leave, but was also smart enough to realize if he did, he’d chicken out and never say the things he wanted to say. Ethan was right. He was the one holding them both back from healing. It was way past time he fixed things for her and for him.

He stood where he was for several minutes, looking over the room he’d once shared with her. This space was definitely different. She’d replaced all the furniture. Instead of golden oak, the dresser and side tables were white-painted pine. She’d gotten rid of the huge, king-sized sleigh bed that had taken up most of the room and replaced it with a queen-sized wrought-iron bed with scrolling detail that arched at the headboard. The bedding was puffy and white. The accent curtains were white. Even the club chair in the corner of the room was white striped, the blue throw pillow on its seat the only color in the entire room.

A whisper of sadness blew through his soul as he lowered himself to the edge of her bed, leaned forward, and rested his forearms against his knees. Not that she’d changed their room—he actually liked what she’d done—but that she’d done so to banish him from her private space. His thoughts drifted to her boyfriend, the one he’d met at the hospital, and even though he told himself not to go there, he couldn’t stop wondering if she’d brought him here, if he’d slept in this bed, how many men she’d let in this room to expel all the memories of their marriage from this place.

The shower shut off, and he sat up straighter, his pulse ticking up again as he looked toward the door and waited. A little voice in the back of his head echoed it was time to go, that she’d be pissed if she came out and saw him, but he ignored it because he’d listened to that voice long enough. This time he was determined to do the right thing, even if his conscience screamed not to.