“We have to have regular ones, too,” Pansy said. “West can’t tolerate that kind of heat.”

“Bless,” Iris said.

“I thought he was a tough ex-convict!” Rose hooted.

“Well, he doesn’t like spicy food.”

“He’s...mostly a Texan. That’s kind of shameful.”

“That’s not why I love him,” Pansy said.

“Why do you love him?” Rose asked.

Pansy’s response was to blush to the roots of her hair.

Sammy grinned. “See. Good for you. And it all happened because you took my advice.”

Iris scowled. “Yes, and it could’ve also backfired. In fact, it very nearly did.”

“But it didn’t,” Sammy said cheerfully. “Love prevailed in the end.”

As she said it, the word caught in her breastbone. Then she realized... She realized just what awful advice she had given to Pansy. And so cavalierly. Because she hadn’t really understood. Because for her, sex had never been intimate. Because she had worked so hard at compartmentalizing all of her emotions. And it had been helped by the fact that none of it had ever been terribly physically satisfying.

She could have ruined Pansy’s life.

She started fiddling with all of the canning supplies, blinking rapidly.

“What?” Iris asked.

“Are you okay?” That question came from Rose, and the fact that it was sincere made Sammy slightly concerned that Rose was connecting some of the issues that Sammy was currently having with the situation with Ryder. True to her word, Rose hadn’t said anything. It surprised Sammy a bit that Rose—who was a notorious loudmouth—had kept her counsel quite so well. But she had.

Sammy wasn’t really sure why she cared if Rose told. Ryder clearly didn’t. But it did come back to that intimacy thing. A funny thing. Because she would’ve thought she’d have been the first one to share. Of course, it was awkward because it was Iris, Pansy and Rose’s brother. And they certainly didn’t want to hear about his prowess, but still.

She didn’t want to share about it anyway. No matter what. Whether it was weird for them or not. She wanted to keep it to herself. She wanted it to be her secret. She wanted it to be her thing to marvel at.

Suddenly, she felt oddly emotional. And the vinegar in the room smelled too strong. She didn’t like it.

“I don’t know. I want to do the jam,” she said. She wrinkled her nose. “Something smells off.”

“Nothing smells off,” Pansy said.

“I think it does. And no offense, Pansy, but I don’t necessarily trust your culinary sensibilities over mine.”

“I don’t think anything smells off,” Iris said.

“Well. It does,” Sammy said. Suddenly, she felt resolute in that.

“Fine,” Iris said. “I’ll check everything over.”

“Dammit,” Pansy said, grimacing. She clutched her side. “Do any of you have any fem pro?”

“Pads or tampons?” Iris asked.

Sammy blinked.

Pads or tampons.

Pads or tampons.

Neither of which she had used for longer than she ought to have not used them.

Holy. Shit.

She just stood there while the sisters moved around her, while Iris gave blithe directions as to where Pansy might find her tampons. Pansy, who was engaged. And in love. And who would probably find it positive news if she didn’t need feminine protection.