"She's at work," Lilly supplies as she throws a glance in my direction.
I was about to drop onto the bench seat when her words hit, and I halt, hovering like I'm about to take a dump. "What did you say?" I can't keep the seething out of my tone.
Lilly fully turns, with one hand still stirring their lunch. "She said she needed to get back to work. We tried to tell her to take it easy. Denis told her he's got it covered, but she just got dressed and left."
I straighten back up. "Where is her brother?" How can Oliver just let her do that?
"He left early this morning."
"He…left? His little sister got fucking roofied. We have no clue why or how, and he left?" Rage surges up inside of me. "Is anyone with Denielle?"
"No." Lilly's low tone makes it even worse.
"You of all people should know that shit like this can escalate quickly." My voice rises with every word, and Rhys takes a step in my direction.
"Whoa, hold it right there." His hands are raised in a disarming gesture, though his face conveys a different message. "You cannot compare what happened to Calla with yesterday." He points to his wife and back at me. "Maybe if you wouldn't be so set in your fucking Denielle-Keller-is-to-blame-for-everyone-who-pissed-in-your-coffee-over-the-last-twenty-years attitude, maybe she wouldn't have to flee the house. Why don't we also fault her if it rains tomorrow?" His face turns crimson. He's on a roll—an irrational one, at that.
I press my lips together not to lash out. My stab against Lilly was uncalled for, but what does he know about my life?
"Rhys," Lilly calls his name.
"I'm starting to get really tired of your little vendetta. We've accepted it for what it was for years. We all have someone we can't stand—"
"Babe!" she tries again.
"But Denielle is one of our oldest and best friends and—"
"BACK. THE. FUCK. OFF." I didn't realize how close I had moved as Rhys spewed his words. My blood is boiling for more reasons than him laying into me for something he can't comprehend. Fingers curling, it takes every ounce of self-control not to punch his lights out.
Lilly pushes her way between us. "Guys, enough." She puts a hand on Rhys's chest while looking at me—probably checking to see if I'm about to lose my job.
I inhale slowly through my nose, never breaking eye contact with Rhys. He does the same, and the sizzling tension in the room slowly simmers down.
He's the first to break the stare down, and my shoulders sag in response. I retreat and finally settle in the breakfast nook. With my head in my hands, I sort through my thoughts.
"Rhys, that was uncalled for," Lilly chastises him.
"No, it wasn't," I correct her, never averting my gaze from the surface in front of me. "He's right. I've blamed Denielle for everything." A choking sensation makes it hard to verbalize what I should've realized long ago. "Things she had no part in." Admitting this to someone else, not just myself, is like finally allowing myself to grieve Ken.
"Marcus…" Lilly whispers.
I shake my head, unable to look at them. "Let me say this... You're both right. I've held on to my rage for so long that I couldn't distinguish where my guilt and Victor Keller not being able to save Ken began or ended. But in either case, Denielle had no part in it." I lift my head, meeting first Rhys's then Lilly's concerned gaze. "I apologize for bringing up…" I don't need to finish the sentence. We all know what happened to Lilly McGuire.
The room is eerily silent. My jaw works, emotions I haven't allowed in slowly clogging my throat. I never learned to show vulnerability. Admitting weakness would've meant giving up, not fighting.
Lilly pushes the pan off the burner and pads over. She drops in the seat across from me and scoots in to make room for Rhys. No one speaks.
"I…" Rhys begins. He places his palms flat on the table, splaying his fingers. The tips press into the wood, turning his knuckles white. "I'm sorry for belittling your past. I can't comprehend what it would mean to lose my little sister. Natty…she… It would kill me."
Lilly puts her hand on Rhys's and wraps her fingers around his.
"I shouldn't have brought up what happened with—" I stumble over my next words, my heart thudding against my ribs. "I'm worried about Denielle." I peer at my friends—not my employers, my family. Lilly's eyes soften, and she glances at Rhys, who returns the look.
"So are we," she admits. "I always drew the line at looking into my friends' lives, but I'm…"
Lilly could find out what Denielle is hiding—if she wanted to.
I surprise myself by saying, "Give her more time. She will tellyou."