“She used to beat me,” Aimee went on, and the ball in my stomach started to grow icicles. “Every single pageant. I’d get grand supreme and Calla would almost always take home ultimate grand supreme.”

Jax’s lips curved up into an easy grin as he watched me, but I was crawling out of my skin to get away from him, the bar, and from Aimee.

Her head cocked to the side as she leaned against the bar. “I haven’t seen you since the fire.”

Air lodged in my throat and the tiny hairs along my back rose.

“A lot of the organizations ran fund-raisers. I remember that,” she continued blithely. “The girls who won money at the pageants for like six months turned over their winnings for you.”

Oh my God.

I also remembered that—remembered Dad saying something about it while I’d been in the hospital, and Mom had been too out of it with grief to even come into my hospital room.

“So terrible,” Aimee said, blinking large eyes. “Everything that happened to you, to your family. How long were you in the hospital?”

Who asked questions like that? But I knew the answer. Throughout my life, complete strangers shoved their noses in my business and asked questions one would think would be off the table or just not appropriate. People didn’t think or they simply didn’t care.

“Months,” I heard myself say.

Jax’s hand flattened against my back, and I felt the muscles tense in his body. The tiny hairs were prickling now.

“Excuse me.” My voice was rough as I wiggled free from Jax and the bar. “I have to get back to work.”

I slipped away, not hearing whatever Aimee said as I grabbed the round tray and headed out onto the floor to find empty glasses and bottles. My mind was spinning so many thoughts I couldn’t pick up just one to focus on.

Aimee was an unexpected and unwanted blast from the past. She was a part of memories that, all these years later, I hadn’t really reconciled with, and I wasn’t sure I ever would. Not only that, but she represented everything I should’ve been.

The knot was in my throat again as I grabbed empty bottles, ignoring the faint smell of beer as I dropped them on my tray. Later, I’d probably not say Aimee represented shit, but right now, if I thought of her, I thought of everything before the fire. I thought about what life would’ve been like for my family—for Mom, for Kevin and Tommy, and for Dad and me, if the fire had never happened.

I’d probably be standing right here.

I stopped, breathing heavy as my fingers curled around the neck of another empty bottle. I stared straight ahead, at the backs of those clustered around the pool tables.

It hit me, right then and there, so strong that my fingers tingled along with my toes. If that fire never happened, I would probably be standing right where I was. I would’ve been groomed to take over the bar, because it had been successful, and it had been something my parents had built to hand over to us. Kevin would be running the place. Tommy would be here. So would Mom and Dad.