CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR #3
Glen didn’t say anything, but Pierce saw his hand tighten on the back of the chair like it was taking effort not to do something, like go find the shooter himself, maybe. Pierce understood that feeling all too well.
Bea looked at Pierce, eyes sharp now. “She’s been through so much,” she said quietly. “First her father, then her brother, and she tried so hard to keep standing even when it should’ve crushed her. I just—” Her breath hitched. “I’m worried how this is going to affect her.”
Pierce didn’t flinch. He stepped a little closer, letting his presence say what words couldn’t.
“It won’t,” he said. “Not this time. Because she isn’t alone anymore.”
Something shifted in Bea’s expression, like relief trying to push through dread.
Glen’s eyes flicked toward Pierce, studying him, and Pierce could almost see the calculation changing: He means it.
“She’s got you,” Bea whispered, like she was testing the idea.
Pierce nodded once. “She’s got all of us.”
That seemed to settle something in both of them, even if only by a fraction.
As Pierce stepped back, his eyes caught something on the stove that hadn’t been there earlier.
A huge stainless-steel pot.
It gleamed under the overhead lights like a beacon of normalcy in a night that had none. Next to it sat bags of groceries on the counter—bread, a package of cheese slices, butter, and a couple of cans of tomato soup.
Pierce pinched his eyebrows and glanced at Ray like maybe he had missed something.
Ray’s brows lifted in his not-me expression.
Pierce looked back at Bea, puzzled. “Uh… when did that show up?”
Bea’s mouth curved, the first real hint of a smile since they had arrived. “About ten minutes ago,” she said lightly. “I wasn’t sure if anyone had eaten. And I figured…” She gestured toward the pot. “Tomato soup and grilled cheese. Something simple. Something warm. Comfort food.”
For a second, Pierce didn’t know what to say.
It was such a small thing. A pot of soup and grilled cheese.
And yet it hit him hard, because it was Bea’s way of taking control of the only thing she could in a situation where she couldn’t control anything else.
Jessica immediately stepped in, eyes soft. “Bea, that’s perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”
Ray grinned. “Yeah. I was about to eat cereal out of a mixing bowl.”
Bea let out a shaky laugh. “Well, we can’t have that.”
Jessica moved toward the counter. “Come on,” she said to Bea, rolling up her sleeves. “I’ll help with the grilled cheese.”
Bea hesitated, then nodded, grateful for something to do. The two women stepped deeper into the kitchen, the sound of a butter wrapper crinkling and a pan clinking onto the stove adding a normal rhythm to the room.
Glen, however, didn’t move toward the food.
He walked over and sat at the table with Pierce and the guys, his posture rigid, hands folded in front of him. His face was blank, controlled, but his eyes kept darting toward the hallway every few seconds.
Pierce recognized it instantly. That same vigilance.
That helplessness when someone you love is hurt, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Glen cleared his throat quietly. “How is she… really?” he asked, voice low enough that Bea couldn’t hear over the cooking sounds. “Not what you tell people who don’t want the truth. I mean really.”
Pierce’s jaw tightened. He stared at the table for a second, choosing his words carefully.
“She’s in shock,” he admitted. “She’s trying to hold it together. She’s quiet. Like her mind keeps replaying it.”
Glen’s eyes closed briefly. When he opened them again, they were glassy but controlled.
“That girl can’t take much more,” he said, voice rough.
“It’s not fair. Everything she’s already endured—her dad, her brother…
” He swallowed hard, as if the words scraped his throat on the way out.
“She tried to carry all of it on her own. She always does.”
Pierce nodded, understanding Glen’s words very well.
He leaned forward slightly, forearms braced on his knees. “I meant what I said earlier. She doesn’t have to carry shit alone anymore.”
Glen looked at him, the blankness in his expression cracking just enough to reveal the worry underneath.
Pierce continued, “She’s got you and Bea. She’s got Alyvia. She’s got Jessica. And she’s got us.” He nodded toward the guys around the table. “Every person sitting in this kitchen has her back. And I’m not going anywhere.”
A long moment passed.
Then Glen’s mouth shifted, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner. It wasn’t happiness. It was a mix of gratitude and respect.
“She picked a good one,” Glen said quietly, almost grudgingly.
Pierce exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I’m just trying to be what she needs.”
Glen’s gaze flicked toward the hallway again. “Just keep her safe,” he murmured. “Please.”
Pierce nodded once. “I will.”
He glanced at his watch. It had been almost forty-five minutes since he left Charley in his bedroom. And he was starting to get a little antsy.
After another ten minutes, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he excused himself to go and check on her.
◆◆◆
Charley stood under the showerhead, letting the hot water trickle down her skin, as if it could rinse away the images stuck behind her eyes.
Her arm stung a little when she shifted, the covered bandage pulling faintly.
But the heat had felt wonderful on her body and helped loosen the tightness in her muscles.
For the first time since the shots rang out, she felt like she could actually take a full breath without it catching in her chest.
After noticing that her fingers were starting to prune, she shut off the water and used the fluffy towel to dry off.
She still felt shaken and was still numb a little, but at least she was clean.
After slathering on her lotion, she slipped into her comfy tank top and pajama pants, being careful not to bother her arm. It was starting to ache again, and she knew she should take something, but she wanted to eat something with it, or she would end up with a stomachache.
She heard her phone buzz from the bedroom. When she walked over to Pierce’s bed and looked at her phone, she saw she had messages from Alex, Bailey, and even Irish.
A small, watery laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it. It didn’t feel like humor so much as relief—because these people, this messy, loud, stubborn military family, wrapped their arms around you whether you were ready or not.
Family. She thought to herself. It was the word Jessica had used at the cookout.
Charley lowered herself onto the edge of Pierce’s bed and sat for a moment as she read through the messages.
Alex’s made her smile even though she sounded bossy as hell.
And Irish and Bailey’s message actually made her laugh.
They had told her how worried they were, to call them for anything, that they didn’t hold her betrayal against her.
They had been referring to the night of the grand opening, when she embarrassed them by getting Sienna to tell everyone about their camping trip.
They weren’t really mad. They had even laughed about it later that night, and they all still joke about it.
A soft knock sounded at the bedroom door, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Hey,” Pierce’s voice came through gently. “Can I come in?”
Charley swallowed and forced a small smile even though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah.”
The door opened, and Pierce stepped inside, then closed it behind him. His gaze immediately found hers.
Charley gave him a small smile, and warmth flickered through her chest. She could tell that he was worried about her. She appreciated him more than he knew. He had been her rock today. Without him by her side, she would have probably been hospitalized.
Pierce crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed, his knee brushing against hers.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.
Charley tilted her head and tried for something light. “Clean,” she said. “Which feels like a miracle, considering I looked like I had lost a fight with a crime scene.”
Pierce’s mouth curved, the tension in his face easing just a fraction. “Yeah,” he murmured, a soft huff of laughter escaping him. “Clean is good.”
The smile fell from her lips, replaced by honesty she couldn’t keep tucked away anymore. “I do feel a little better,” she admitted. “Still processing it all. But the shower helped.”
He nodded. “Sometimes it takes a while,” he said. “Trauma, like what you experienced, doesn’t just switch off.”
Charley’s gaze dropped to his hands resting on his thighs, the way his fingers flexed like he was fighting the urge to reach for her. “Any updates?” she asked quietly, even though she already knew the answer by the look in his eyes. Plus, he was doing that jaw thing again.
“Ray spoke with his friend at the police department. Dr. Marwood was found murdered.”
Charley’s stomach dropped, and she covered her mouth. “Oh, my God!”
Charley stared at the wall for a second, her mind spinning. She looked at Pierce.
“This whole thing is just bizarre,” she said.
He nodded. “Yeah. It is.”
Pierce shifted slightly and lifted his hand, brushing his knuckles against hers before lacing his fingers with hers.
Charley squeezed once, then looked up at him. “Thank you for talking with Ace,” she said softly. “Alex texted me.”
He grinned. “Of course.”
“In her text, she said she would be on the first flight out here if I needed her,” Charley murmured, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Which is very Alex.”
Pierce huffed quietly. “She threatened me, too.”
Charley blinked in surprise. “She did?”
“Mm-hmm.” Pierce’s amused eyes held hers. “She told me if I didn’t take care of you that she would come out here and make me regret my entire existence.”
Charley let out a real laugh.
Pierce’s gaze softened. “Your aunt and uncle are here, by the way.”
Charley looked surprised. “They’re here, now?” She hadn’t even called them yet.
Pierce smiled. “Yeah. Jessica called them.”