She stopped and turned around. “What do you mean?”

“What are you doing?” I pointed behind her. “You told me where the big glasses were, then helped get everything out for me, and now you’re feeding us? You’re acting like an upper-class mom who’s desperate to be friends with her children. For the record, that’s not what this is. I’m not your kid. My friends aren’t going to look at you like you’re suddenly the House Mommy. We’re not in high school anymore, hanging out at the house.”

“Sheldon,” she started, pressing her hands together in front of her.

It was the pity. That’s what I was sensing from her and it was grating on my nerves. I didn’t need her damn sympathy. I wasn’t asking her to be hateful, either, but I’d rather we go back to where she pretended I wasn’t around. I shook my head, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say and held a hand up. “Stop.”

“What?”

“If you’re trying to develop a friendship with me because of my dad, I’m going to clear the record right now. I don’t know why my dad stepped in to help me. Maybe he didn’t think I could handle it. Maybe he didn’t realize I had friends already coming to post my bail. I have no idea. Maybe it really was because he felt guilty over leaving his daughter and now she’s up for murder, thinking it was his last chance to mend fences. Again. No clue.” I fixed her with a hard look. “But trust me. Once I’m cleared, you and he are heading off again. I have no assumptions that you’ll be sticking around, especially if my mother decides to hunt us down and try to swoop in for some money. He’s for sure going to take off, but you and me . . .” I gestured around the kitchen, “. . .this whole Suzy Homemaker scene you have going on, it’s not going to happen. I will probably never see you again in my life after this thing ends, and it will end.” I had no doubt about it. “There are three ways this will come to a close. I’ll either be free, in prison, or dead. Either way, those are all endings.”

“You’re so jaded.” She looked down, folding her arms over her chest. It was a slight whisper, like she was talking to herself.

“Yeah,” I clipped out. “I am. I have been for a long time, but being jaded doesn’t mean I’m pessimistic. I’m realistic. That’s all. I’m not going to entertain any daydreams about having a father who suddenly remembers he loves me. He broke me years ago. He won’t get the chance to do it again, so please.” My heart was pounding and my voice had risen. I hadn’t realized how loud I was until Bryce came around the corner. He’d been there the whole time. I could tell with one look. There was no surprise, just understanding.

My heart paused, then lunged in my chest.

He was seeing me, the real me, and there was no polished-Bryce between us. The persona he had taken on when he became a soccer player, then became famous, all of it was gone. It was just him, and my god, I had missed him.

I wet my lips, my throat suddenly dry.

He saw my response, and his eyes darkened, but he held himself back, shaking his head in the slightest movement. Beth couldn’t see him. He was standing behind her so as she started to say something, he began walking to the pool area.

“—sorry you feel that way. I am.”

I swung back to her as Bryce slipped out the door without a noise. “What?”

She finished the sandwiches and set them aside. Washing her hands and then drying them off, she stopped in the middle of the kitchen. Lifting her head, she looked at me, and I felt like she was looking inside of me, seeing me how Bryce just had. An emotion flickered in her gaze, and it was that damn pity again.

I wanted to reach up and grab it from her. She hadn’t earned the right to look down on me.

“I’m sorry, Sheldon. I’m sorry you feel this way. I’m sorry that it may even be true. You’re right. I’m not your mother, and I may never have the privilege of being your stepmother, not that I would expect you to allow me to fulfill that role, but your insults and this brash exterior aside, don’t take the words out of my mouth. When I say it would’ve been a privilege, I mean it. A privilege. A blessing.” A lone tear slipped from her eye, and she brushed it aside with an impatient flick of her hand. “I can’t apologize for your mother or your father, but I can only tell you that when I look at you, I don’t see whatever you think I see. I see my own child.” Her voice trembled. “I lost her four years ago. She was like you, hurt and lost, but she didn’t have your fight, and the mother in me is horrified at how jealous I am. I’m horrified too because what kind of a mother am I, to wish that my own daughter had half the fight you do. She chose to end her own life, but if she had fought . . .” Pure agony rose up in her eyes and her head lowered. Her lip started jerking, and I heard the struggle as she tried to control her emotions.

Regret seeped into my pores, but I didn’t know what to say. I had never thought about giving up. Even the idea never came to me. Give up? To who? Then some other dumbass would’ve won. Marcus. The sorority bitches from last year. Even this killer, whoever the hell he was—I’m sure the end for him is me dying.

“I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat. Beth wasn’t my enemy. I’d been treating her like it. “I didn’t know about your daughter.”

She nodded, but she didn’t look back up.

I had broken her. That thought occurred to me, and I bit my lip, feeling guilty about it. “Look.” I shook my head. What the hell was I doing? “I can be a real bitch. I lash out and sometimes, most of the time, I don’t even need to lash out. I didn’t know you had a daughter, and I don’t know what happened to her, but I’m sure she must’ve been feeling unbearable pain for her to do what she did.”

She sniffled and her hand lifted, wiping more tears from her eyes. She still didn’t look at me. I realized that she couldn’t. Whatever struggle Beth was feeling, it had nothing to do with me. Her daughter was in the room, pressing on her, how Grace pressed on me.

“If it’s worth anything, I feel like you were a good mom.”

A laugh in disbelief came from her. Still so soft, but it was there. It was a small break from whatever punishment she was feeling at that moment.

“No, I mean it.” I tried to think of my own mother, what she would be doing if I had chosen that route. “I don’t think my mom would be crying about me in some room with a stranger. She’d be bawling her eyes out at my gravesite, with press scheduled to arrive. I’m sure she’d call them and make sure they timed it just right, catching her breaking down or something.”