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This could not be going any worse. Cherish was about to step in again, and Febe cut her a sharp warning in a simple look. Immediately, Cherish bit the inside of her cheek, listening to her boss.

“And you are saying that other people, the people we help every day, don’t deserve it?” Febe’s voice was quiet, which was deadly. The quieter she got the worse this would be.

“What?” Haylee’s face drained of color. The fiery anger, the entirely wrong kind of energy for a meeting like this especially with Febe, dissipated until a new wave of doubt and stammering overtook Haylee’s words. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Of course they deserve it.”

“But you’ve decided that of all the people out there, veterans deserve our entire focus?” Febe pressed her palm to the desk, her fingers turning white from the pressure of her quietly controlled anger.

“And their families.” Haylee retorted, almost a stammer.

Cherish imagined the two women as strange dogs approaching each other’s territories, lips curled back in snarls and hair standing up along the ridge of their backs. Circling each other. Which one would win out? Cherish already knew.

Haylee was wholly unprepared for this.

“Right.” Febe threw the pen down on the desk, and Cherish forced her shoulders to stay where they were, despite her desire for them to slump forward in defeat. “Ms. Coleman, every dedicated line we have is a valuable addition to our company and our community. Everyone who works here cares about the person coming to us in need. My question to you, Ms. Coleman, is do you actually care about anything?”

Silence charged through the room, heavy and fizzing with a tension that Cherish rarely felt in this office. And as this was Febe's office, that truly said something.

Heat raced up Cherish’s neck. So hot, it made her wonder what temperature the air was set at because she couldn’t possibly be this worried and tied up over Haylee’s failed pitch.

Second failed pitch, she reminded herself.

What fallout was going to ensue now? Because if Cherish had to run this office on her own again—without Haylee—she wasn’t sure she could do it. Not with the way she and Febe had left things after the gala.

“Apparently not. Thank you for your time, Ms. Aarts,” Haylee spoke with a barely contained fury behind her teeth. She didn’t wait to be dismissed before she stood up. Her knuckles clenched around the pen and still closed notepad. She hadn’t taken a single note in the entire meeting.

The door didn’t quite slam, but it shut far louder and harder than was necessary. But the tension didn’t leave with Haylee. Cherish sat in her chair, waiting for the best opportunity to leave, preferably sooner rather than later, because Febe was about to turn on her. She always did.

“Was there anything else, Cherish?” Febe asked on a sigh, as though the cruelty she had slung Haylee’s way was warranted.

Was there anything else?

Was she truly this heartless? Had she always been?

Anger worked its way into Cherish’s chest, firing all of the cylinders of her heart in a way it hadn’t in a very long time. She ground her molars and glanced to the door Haylee had just walked through and then back to her boss.

She snapped.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Cherish shot up and stepped right up to Febe’s desk. She gripped the front edge of the dark cherrywood top, both to stop her hands curling into fists, while also leaning closer to Febe, an urge to truly see the woman sitting there. Who was this woman? Because this wasn’t Cherish’s best friend. This wasn’t the person she had grown up with. This was someone who didn’t understand people.

“Excuse me?” Febe smirked, that single eyebrow raising.

Cherish noted the curiosity in Febe’s tone, the fire in her eyes. It still managed to send a sizzle of heat through her body, but not like it once had. Not like Haylee could do. Cherish kept her position, holding still and standing her ground. No matter what Febe did, she wasn’t going to back down. Not this time.

“You didn’t need to be such a cold-hearted bitch to her.” Shock filled Cherish’s body as much as it spread over Febe’s face. She’d never done this before.

“I wasn’t a bitch,” Febe snapped. But she stayed perfectly put, the queen on her throne. Oh how Cherish wished she could smack her off it for just one day.

“Like hell you weren’t.” Cherish couldn’t stop now, couldn’t back down. Despite the trembling in her fingers that continued to grip at Febe’s desk, she had to keep going. She couldn’t let it end like this, and she had far too much to say to swallow it all down now. “You could tell she was nervous. Hell, a blind dog could have seen that. And she’s young. She hasn’t had years of experience and opportunities like you, but she’s trying.”

“She has no passion,” Febe replied, her own voice returned to a flatness that Cherish wanted to scream at.

“You don’t even know her,” Cherish pleaded. When had she gone from anger to begging?

“And you do?” Febe’s direct stare sent a flood of heat to Cherish’s cheeks, but no. She wouldn’t let this argument be derailed because of…well, because of sex. Febe couldn’t know what she and Haylee had done. It would be the end of Haylee’s job in a second flat.

“I do know her, and I know you. Despite what you think, there are many people, even some employed here who wonder the same thing about you.” It was a low blow, but it was the truth. And it wasn’t only since Bernie died. Febe had always kept her distance from everyone. The only reason Cherish was allowed in was because she had been there when it had happened.