Was her head injury causing her to hallucinate? She’d left the place in ruins. Only when a tall figure rose from the couch did everything fall into place. “Welcome home, Natalie,” Beau said. She gripped the door frame, blasted by a tempest of emotions—gratitude, yes, but surprisingly, the most overpowering of all was outrage. Why hadn’t anyone understood that she needed to do this job herself, to work through the wreckage Slade had left behind, to prove that she could manage on her own? Beau had taken that healing task away from her. Tori must have had a hand in it, too. He couldn’t have done it without her cooperation. Beau was watching her with a concerned expression. She realized she was shaking. “How . . . could . . . you?” Each word was forced from her tight throat. A wounded look flashed across his face. Then, as if the truth had dawned, he strode across the room and caught her close. Natalie went rigid, her fists balling against his hard chest. She fought his strength, but his arms only tightened around her, confining her, confining the storm as he’d learned to do years ago when she was upset.
