The crack of it echoed through the foyer, and my head turned with the force of it.

Bristol, against the wall, smirked — waiting, I understood, for the part where I dissolved into tears and apologized, the way I always had, to smooth things over and keep the peace.

I will not pretend it did not hurt, or that some old, ugly instinct did not rise in me in that half-second — the instinct to answer a blow with a blow, to give this woman back exactly what she had given me.

I felt it.

I want to be honest that I felt it.

For one hot instant, every cell in my body wanted to strike her back and watch her stagger.