I pat his hand gently. “I know. But there’s nothing rational about behavior like that.”

“No, there isn’t,” he agrees.

“So . . . what now?” I ask.

“He’s gone,” Christopher says forcefully. “I fired his ass. Police have him.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s the least he deserves.”

“His father will bail him out,” Jamie mutters, scrubbing his face, hands sliding beneath his glasses. “He’ll get a slap on the hand and a new job somewhere working with some executive who owes his father a favor.”

“Probably,” Christopher concedes.

“But he’s out of our lives, at least?” I ask.

Jamie drops his hands and meets my eyes. “Absolutely.”

Christopher massages his shoulder and stares down at the table. “Without a doubt.”

“Poor Jules,” I whisper miserably, rubbing the ache in my chest, sympathy pain that’s a shadow of what she must be feeling.

“Hey,” my sister says from the other end of the room, her voice shaky. We all stand. She gets one look at Christopher and crumples, hiding her face in her hands as she starts to cry. “Oh Jesus, Christopher. He really hurt you—”

“Hey, no. Jules, I’m fine,” he says, starting toward her.

“I’ve got this,” I tell him, setting a hand on his arm to stop him before turning toward Jamie.

“Go,” he says softly, his hand on my back. “I’ll keep Christopher company. Give him grief for not getting that shoulder checked out.”

Christopher narrows the eye that’s not swollen shut. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Well, there’s time now,” I hear Jamie tell him as I cross the room toward my sister. “Let me take you. I have a colleague from the shelter who I know is working tonight at the nearest ER. I’ll make sure you’re seen by her. Come on.”

Wrapping my arms around Jules, I walk her toward her room and bed, shutting the door behind us.

She’s trembling as she crawls onto the mattress, and I join her, slipping off my shoes and dragging the blanket over our heads. I flick on the flashlight I stashed there earlier.

Fresh tears slide down her cheeks. “Just like the good old days.”

“Jules.” I clasp her hand carefully. “Did he hurt you?”

She burrows in on herself, hiding her face. “Not physically. But watching him go at Christopher was terrifying.”

“Of course it was.” I rub her arm gently. “He hurt you with words, though, didn’t he?”

Jules glances up at me, wide eyes like mine wet with tears. “I was such a fool, Bea.”

“No, you weren’t.” Taking her hand, I hold it to my heart. “You weren’t a fool for believing the best in someone you loved. Someone who swept you off your feet with his best self and made you fall head over heels for him in just a few short weeks.”