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A sickly one. One that coils in the pit of my stomach, slimy and vile. Like throwing back raw eggs. Dread prickles across my cold flesh to settle at my feet.

Even as I fight to keep from showing it, my stiff muscles tremble. I hate it. I’m not scared of Bron. He’s hot tempered and cruel, but he’s never raised a hand to me. He’s barely raised his voice. It’s not his retaliation that has me biting my lip with anxiety.

“Everly?”

I suck in a breath and turn to face the man watching me with barely restrained anger and concern.

“Yes, Mr. Shaw?” I whisper.

He turns his massive body fully to me. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I give a quick, mandatory nod. “Yes, sir.”

There’s a moment of him staring into my eyes, searching for the truth before he exhales with a shake of his head. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but ... he has no business talking to you that way, do you understand?”

I nod again but say nothing. I just want this whole thing to end. I want to escape. Go somewhere quiet and private to breathe.

He looks past me to the other man, the one I can’t bring myself to face, standing tall and still behind me. The two have their silent discussion I don’t understand before I’m the subject of Lachlan’s attention once more.

“Why don’t you go sit with Lauren? We’ll finish up here.”

I take the opening. I turn on my heel and move quickly through the patio doors and out into the balmy evening. Below, in the shiny light of the pool, Lauren’s silhouette cuts through the water, a fluid streak of power. Her bright red two-piece practically glows.

Resisting the urge to dive in with her, fully clothed, I pad to the edge of the pool and slip my feet into the cool water.

Lauren pops up several feet away, pale strands slicked back from her beautiful face. She blinks eyes famed with star spikes. They brighten when she spots me.

“Hello, my love!” She pushes closer with one powerful kick. “Join me.”

I shake my head, offering her the best smile I can muster. “I’m really not in the mood to get wet.”

Her head cocks to one side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—”

But her face has already turned in the direction of the house, searching and assessing like she can see through the walls.

“Fucker’s back, isn’t he?”

I groan even as I sigh. “Lauren...”

“Like it’s too much to ask for the universe to let him get eaten by squirrels,” she gripes.

“Pretty sure squirrels aren’t carnivores,” I mumble, semi-amused.

“Rabid ones are. Just need a small army.” She counters. “What did he say to you?”

“Seriously, nothing. I’m fine.”

Blue eyes roll in my direction, deadpan and irritable. “I know you don’t want my help or my advice, but ... babe, seriously, I swear on my signedWhitney Houstonposter, you dump his ass and you’ll feel so much better.”

Rather than respond in the same response I give every time, I turn my attention to the twin figures moving through the soft, golden light of the kitchen. Both seem much too big for such a confined space.

I tear my attention away to face my best friend and her laser focus. I force a grin.

“Are we still on for next weekend?”

She better be.