“Yes,” I said. I met her gaze solidly. “You’re an evil bitch, and a bully, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve wanted to break your neck. But I kind of liked your brother. That’s why I came.”

She took in a deep, fluttering breath, but she didn’t break out in tears again. That was done, at least for now. I waited for the snappy comeback. It didn’t make an appearance. Finally she said, “He always said that he hoped he was adopted.” She made a weird little attempt at a laugh. “Most kids think that, but I think he was right. He deserved better.” She swiped at her eyes again. “Shit. I can’t believe I let you see me like this. You’re never going to let me forget it, are you?”

I let that pass into silence, and then asked, “You going to be okay?”

This time the laugh was a little more recognizable, but hollow, as if she was empty inside. “No,” she said. “But thanks anyway. For not—”

For not standing there smiling while she suffered, the way she’d done to me. She couldn’t say that, but I figured it was what she meant.

“Is this where we hug and say we’re BFFs?” I said. “Because I’d rather skip that part.”

“Ugh. Absolutely.” She blew her nose, threw the tissue at the coffee table, and pulled another from the box. “I guess I should—get dressed or something.” She didn’t know what to do, I could tell, but getting dressed was Monica’s go-to coping mechanism. “So get out already.”

I nodded and stood up. I put the glass on the coffee table, then said, “Richard wanted you to be less of a bitch. You might want to look into that, if you really loved him.”

She said nothing, and finally I was able to escape.

The door shut behind me, and I leaned against the wall, eyes shut, breathing in deep, cool gasps. I felt weirdly feverish, and a little sick. No satisfaction at all.

In a strange sort of way, that was good.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CLAIRE

Richard was dead.

Claire had seen it, and somehow, she just couldn’t … believe it. At the last second, she’d realized what was going to happen when Captain Obvious had fired his rifle; she’d just … known. So she’d turned and hidden her eyes.

She was sorry about that now, as if she’d somehow let Richard down. As if she’d owed him that much.

Shane had left her standing there in the rotunda while Michael and Eve hugged out their differences, and she felt … useless. Alone.

And so, so exhausted. It just all seemed overwhelming. She was so tired of being uncertain. Isolated. Scared.

She walked back to the room where their beds were, alone. Someone had neatened it up since they’d left; there were beds now, foldaway cots instead of the camping kind. The sleeping bags were neatly rolled and stowed against the wall. There were sheets, blankets, pillows.