“You have got to be kidding me.” Bell’s hands went to her hips. “Where is the fighter I know and love? The woman who has worked harder than anyone I know to build a life she can be proud of? The one who would do anything to protect Harriet’s legacy?”

It was the last question that had my spine stiffening. The threads of Harriet’s letter spun in my mind. Bring life and love back to its halls. The Abbots certainly wouldn’t do that. They’d only bring bickering and bitterness until they sold The Gables to the highest bidder. But if I fought them…it would be ugly. And that ugliness would bring back so many memories. Ones I’d stuffed away and hoped would never see the light of day.

“I know you’re right. I just…I’m not sure I can deal with them again.”

Bell sank down on the opposite end of my couch. “I know they put you through hell before. But you’re not the girl you were at eighteen. And you’re not going to fight them alone.”

“I know.” I tried to take her words in, to rest in them, to trust them. But I couldn’t seem to do it fully. It was as if they were made of sand, slipping easily through my fingers.

She eyed me carefully. “How are you holding up?”

I gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I’m honestly not sure.” Raw pain seemed to infiltrate every part of me, punctuated by brief punches of equally excruciating joy. Harriet had loved me enough to leave me her home, the most precious thing in her possession. But she wasn’t here to enjoy it with me. “I didn’t know feeling loved could hurt this much.”

Bell grabbed my blanket-covered foot, squeezing it. “I know this might not be a comfort, but the depth of the pain is a measure of how deeply you loved each other. How much you impacted each other’s lives.”

“It doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s going to take a long time to heal. And you’re going to walk with a limp while you’re doing it. But you will get through this.”

I met Bell’s eyes—so much wisdom and understanding and empathy swirled in them. She knew. She was a part of the club that no one joined voluntarily. The one that meant you’d lost someone who was a part of your soul. “The world feels fuzzy. Like I’ve been on one of those tilt-a-whirls that Caelyn made us go on at the fair for too long.”

“It’s shock. It’ll pass. And you’ll start to feel steady on your feet again. I promise.”