I was about to spit fire. “How do you know? Maybe he—­”

“I’ve talked to him,” Reece continued, and effectively shutting me up by doing so. I gaped at him. “I’ve had real long talks with him.”

“What?” I whispered.

Reece glanced at my dad and then his gaze settled on me. He stepped closer. Brave man, because I was pretty sure my expression said I was about to cut him. “After the first time he tried to make contact with you, I had a chat with him to make sure he wasn’t going to cause you any trouble.”

“Good man.” My father clapped him on the shoulder, and I shot him a look. Seriously? “What?” he replied. “Reece was looking out for you.”

I crossed my arms.

“By saying this, I’m not forgetting what he’d done to Charlie. Henry hasn’t forgotten that either. That man is carrying around a load of guilt,” Reece said, and the tone of his voice said he had a lot of experience with that. “And he isn’t looking for forgiveness. He’s looking to somehow make amends. Two different things, babe, and breaking into your place, messing with you like this, serves no purpose.”

For a real long moment, I had no idea how to respond. Caught between fury and shock, I didn’t know what to make of the sense of betrayal coursing through me. All at once I was just . . . done with it all. Exhausted to the marrow, my shoulders slumped.

I turned away, surveying the damage. “I got to clean this up.”

A moment passed and Reece touched my shoulder. “We’re going to talk about this later.”

“Whatever,” I murmured, stepping away and picking up a piece of torn canvas. Holding it close, I sucked in an unsteady breath. The blue was the same color of Reece’s eyes, and I could make out the thin black lines that radiated out from the pupil. I didn’t know what to think as I realized that someone had found my creepy stash of Reece paintings.

Though, whatever I felt didn’t compare to how violating and scary it was knowing someone had gotten in here again and had done this—­done something so violent and out of control.

We cleaned up as much as we could, and tomorrow, I’d have to call my insurance company. Luckily, I had renter’s insurance, so it would cover what was damaged and could be replaced.

A lot of the paintings and secondhand stuff couldn’t be, though, but I knew it could’ve been worse. Nothing had been stolen, and in the end, my place was just a mess.

Thomas offered to come back over with me tomorrow to finish up, something that Reece announced—­did not ask—­that he would also tag along for. I didn’t protest, because the last thing I wanted was to do it by myself.