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I lost it.

Fury exploded inside me, like a lit match carelessly dropped on a puddle of gasoline. My brain clicked off and common sense did a swan dive off a building. I just wasn’t thinking, only feeling rage, so much so that it was like being outside of my body. I reached down into the tote bag, pulled the first substantial thing my fingers touched and I cocked my arm back like a pro pitcher in the MLB.

The heavy, hardcover edition of New Moon flew through the air like a rock—much like the rock that had destroyed lives—and connected with the windshield of Henry’s Mustang.

Glass shattered.

Much like all our lives had shattered that night at the lake.

Chapter 8

I had a mean case of déjà vu.

Kind of.

Sitting inside my car, I stared through the rain-drenched windshield—totally intact windshield—as Dennis finished up with Henry. Well, it wasn’t the just-got-married Dennis who often came into the bar. Right now he was Officer Dennis Hanner.

Out of the hundred deputies that worked this county, it had to be someone who knew me. Of course. Because that was how life worked.


I didn’t know if Henry would’ve called the police on me for breaking his windshield, because he hadn’t gotten the chance to do so. Since I had impeccable timing, an elderly couple visiting someone had just gotten out of the car the very second New Moon broke the sound barrier and the windshield. Not only had they called the cops¸ but they’d also parked themselves in front of my car, like I would run off, until Officer Hanner showed up.

Apparently, I’d hit the windshield at the right place. Or maybe it was the wrong spot. Since most glass was reinforced, I must have hit the one and only weak area. Or maybe I was really a mutant and could turn books into weapons of windshield destruction.

Then it rained, all the while Dennis—nope, Officer Hanner—had glared at me like he wanted to pick me up by the ankles and shake some sense into me. I was soaked; so was he, even though he’d donned one of those plastic anti-rain things.

Both Henry and Officer Hanner turned to look at me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I rested my forehead against the steering wheel. I was such . . . such an idiot—an impulsive, irresponsible idiot. What had I been thinking? I couldn’t even believe I’d done that. Granted, I had a hell of a temper. Got that from my mama, too, but I’d never committed an act of vandalism. Shame rode me hard, making my skin clammy and icky.

How was what I’d done any different than what Henry had done? I mean, I didn’t hurt someone, but I lost my shit and I reacted in a way that was violent and stupid.

Uncomfortable with that comparison, I felt a shudder shake my shoulders.

The passenger car door opened suddenly, causing me to jerk back against the seat. Wild eyed, I watched Dennis slip into the seat next to me. My gaze bounced to the front of the car. Henry was gone. So was the Mustang. Reluctantly, I looked back at Dennis.

He tugged off the hood of the plastic, yellow poncho. “What were you thinking, Roxy?”

I opened my mouth.

“Don’t answer that question,” he snapped, scrubbing his hand along his jaw. “I already know. You weren’t thinking a goddamn thing.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

“I cannot believe you. You of all people should know better than to do what you did.”

Casting my gaze to the steering wheel, I pressed my lips together as I nodded. I did know better.

“You’re so damn lucky,” he said. “Henry’s not pressing charges.”

My gaze swung toward him. “What?”

He shook his head as he flipped his stare to the window. “He decided not to press charges. Which is great, because I really don’t want to explain to Reece why I had to arrest you.”

Oh God. Reece.

“Or have to deal with your parents, who I’m sure would be hella proud of what you did,” he added, laying it on thick. But hell, I deserved it. “However, your ass is going to pay for that window to get fixed ASAP. You got it?”

“Yes,” I replied immediately. “As soon as I know how much it costs, I’ll pay it.”

A moment passed. “Henry’s going to get an estimate, and it’ll go through me. I think that’s for the best right now.”

I agreed 100 percent.

“Dennis, I’m . . . I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so angry that he was there, and he grabbed my arm—”

“He said he grabbed your arm right before you threw the book,” he cut in. “By the way, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen a book take out a windshield, so thanks for that. But he didn’t make it sound like it was an aggressive move. And you didn’t bring it up when I first got here. Is there something I don’t know?”

“It wasn’t an aggressive move. He wanted to talk. I didn’t.”

“And that’s your right, Roxy. You don’t have to talk to him,” he agreed. “But you can’t damage his property.”

“I know,” I whispered.

Dennis sent me a long, sideways look. “I wasn’t around when that shit went down with Charlie. Hell, I didn’t even live in this state, but I’ve heard the details. I know what happened, and if it were my decision, the punk ass would still be sitting in jail. But it’s not my decision.” In the cramped seat, he twisted toward me. “And I get that it’s majorly fucked up that he’s out and he gets to come around here, but little girl, you’ve got to pull it together. You can’t do shit like this. It doesn’t help anyone, especially yourself.”

I stared at him.

“You feel me?” he asked.

“Yeah, I feel you.”

Needless to say, I was late for my shift, which sucked ass, because it also meant I wasn’t going to get the design done for a blogger before I left for work. It was going to be a long night, because I was going to have to finish it up when I got back home.

Surprisingly, Jax hadn’t known about my very powerful throwing arm, but when I told him what I had done and he caught me by the hem of my WALKERS NEED LOVE TOO shirt and dragged me down the somewhat quiet hall, I knew I was in for Lecture Number Two of the night.

“Girl, what in the hell were you thinking?” he demanded.

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” I told him. “That was the problem. I just got so pissed and stopped thinking.”

He stared at me, brows raised. “That isn’t a good enough reason.”