Shades of Grey(75)

It nearly killed her to put her injured leg down and put weight on it, but she gritted her teeth and used the door for leverage as she got out.

Before she and Cole made it to the front of the vehicle, Sam met them at the steps to his house.

He gave P.J. a long, assessing look. “How are you?” he asked quietly.

She swallowed. Okay, this was definitely awkward. She really didn’t want to get into any particulars with Sam. She cleared her throat of the knot forming. “I’m fine. Cole’s taking good care of me.”

“Sophie and the others are around back on the patio playing with Charlotte. Can you make it or do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” P.J. muttered again.

Her damnable pride was rearing its ugly head again, but she was not going to ask her boss for help. He was likely pissed off enough at her as it was. She’d probably caused him enough grief for an entire year.

She limped toward the gate that would take her around to the back of the house. It made her a total chickenshit that she wanted Cole with her, and she knew he’d come if only she asked. But this was supposed to be for her. Cole had gone to a lot of trouble, and she didn’t want to let him down. She didn’t want to let herself down.

She hesitated when she heard a child’s shriek of laughter and the accompanying laughter from the adults. She stood at the corner, watching the blond-haired little imp run after a golden retriever puppy while the women sat on the steps of the deck watching with big smiles on their faces.

They didn’t look like women who’d undergone the same kind of shit P.J. had been through, even though she knew differently. P.J. had been a part of each mission that had brought these women back home where they belonged. And they’d all endured their own version of hell. They were survivors. They were fierce. And shit, it killed her to admit it, but they intimidated her because she didn’t feel like she measured up. Especially after her freak-out last night.

She continued to watch from a distance, her gut tightening more with each passing moment. Of the four women, P.J. knew the least about Sarah. She was quieter and more withdrawn than the others. It always made P.J. grin that Garrett stayed in trouble with her over his potty mouth and was forever slipping up when she wasn’t around.

Cole had told her that she’d been raped before she and Garrett had met and that Sarah’s brother had killed the man responsible. P.J. had silently cheered him on, even back then before her own attack had happened.

A man couldn’t be all bad if he was willing to take out the monster responsible for hurting his sister.

P.J. most identified with Sophie, Sam’s wife. She was a fighter. Even five months pregnant and running for her life, she’d kicked some pretty serious ass. Hell, she’d even shot her own father. That took some balls.

But Rachel was also a resilient, kick-ass survivor in her own quiet way. Of all of them, she’d endured the most for the longest. A year in hell. One P.J. couldn’t even begin to imagine or fathom. What Rachel had suffered made what P.J. had experienced seem insignificant in comparison. P.J. had worried that Rachel may not ever fully recover. P.J. had been there when Ethan had carried her out of the jungle. She’d seen Rachel at her lowest point. But she’d come a long way from that frightened, powerless victim she’d been, and she’d made great strides thanks to the support network around her.

P.J. was envious of that if she was honest with herself. Every single Kelly would lay down his life for her or any of the other Kelly women. No hesitation. No regrets.

She was so absorbed in her analysis of the women that she failed to notice Sophie walking her way until the other woman was directly in front of her.

“Hi, P.J.,” Sophie said with a smile. “Cole said you were coming over. I’m very happy you did.”

P.J.’s palms were damp but she resisted the urge to wipe them down her pants. She managed a convincing smile back.

“Er, thanks for having me. I mean, it was nice of you guys to put your day on hold.”

Sophie waved her hand. “Come on over. The only part of the day we put on hold was the opening of the wine. Now that you’re here, we’re going to remedy that.” She finished with a genuine, warm smile that made P.J. relax and lose some of the awful tension in her gut.

She limped behind Sophie and found herself the object of scrutiny of the other three women as they watched her approach. Sure enough, as Sophie had said, there was a wine bottle and glasses on the patio table.

It reeked of a girly social. All that was missing was a teapot, some cute little mini sandwiches with the crusts cut off and some funky dip that looked like a cat puked in the bowl.