Collide (The Barker Triplets 2)

“My problem?”

Slowly he rose until she had to crank her neck to see him properly. Shane’s hand was still on her arm and she grimaced as he squeezed her so tightly that pain radiated up to her elbow.

“Put the wine glass down.”

She thrust her chin out and thumped him on the chest with her free hand. “No.”

“Hey, guys, what’s going on?”

“Shut up, Billie,” she said roughly.

Everyone was staring, even Betty, who though pale, was at least back in the land of the living.

“Take your hand off me,” Bobbi said carefully. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” Shane shook his head. “You won’t win this, Bobbi. Put the fucking glass down.”

She smiled sweetly. “It’s kind of hard to do that when you’ve got my hand held in a vise.”

He let go.

“Thank you.”

A heartbeat went by.

And then she tossed the glass into his face, watching the red liquid roll down his cheeks like blood tears.

Everyone went quiet, even Gramps, who’d been mumbling ‘twins,’ over and over and ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’, as soon as Bobbi had risen from her chair. Of course Gramps had moved his chair back because he was a smart man.

Suddenly Bobbi couldn’t keep anything inside. It was all going to spill out and she was helpless to stop it. What had happened between yesterday and today? Did it matter? Did anything matter except the pain and guilt and love that she felt for this man?

“What the hell is going on, Shane?”

His features shifted slightly as he calmly grabbed a napkin and wiped his face. For a moment there was no sound and Bobbi was painfully aware that every single eye in the room was on them.

“I told you not to start this. Not here. Not now.”

“I don’t care,” Bobbi retorted.

“Bobbi, maybe you should—”

She turned to her sister and nailed Billie with a look that promised physical retribution unless she shut the hell up.

“Why are you so…”

But she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence because Shane reached into his pocket and threw something onto the table.

Angry?

She stared down at the table. At the blue package sitting between the mashed potatoes and what was left of the ham. At the blue package with the bright white words, First Alert. Was it possible for white to glow?

“Are you going to explain that?” he said calmly, though his posture and his eyes were anything but.

She was silent because there was no way in hell she could get the words inside her head out.

“No?” Shane said harshly.

“Don’t,” she managed to say, before lifting her eyes to his. “Not here. Not now.”