Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Sebastian sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching the salts fizzle inside the water, turning milky. “Anything else, big bro?”
“Actually, yes. I need advice.”
“Skyn ultra-thin, though Trojan Magnum are okay, too.”
I ignored his joke. “Briar is being a hellion. I don’t know what’s wrong with her—”
“Have you tried unplugging her, rebooting, then plugging her in again, but this time without ruining her life?”
My teeth slammed together. I tried to keep my voice neutral. “As I said, she’s been rebellious these past couple days. She might try to venture into your wing.”
“Duly noted. I’ll fight her anytime and anyplace she wants.”
“You will not touch one hair on her head,” I countered, my tone coming out harsher and rougher than I intended.
That made Seb look up from the water. “Excuse me?”
“You cannot touch her if she comes here. Or make a scene. If you even make her feel slightly uncomfortable—”
“Then what?” He stood up. Seb lived to make me feel small, guilty, and insignificant. “What will you do, then? I’m your little brother whose life you ruined. You wouldn’t dare retaliate against me.”
Maybe it was the constant petty tricks Briar inflicted on me. Maybe it was the decade-plus of sleepless nights. Maybe it was the tension from having the hottest woman on the planet rub herself up and down on me, twenty-four seven.
But for the first time since I ruined Seb’s life, I snapped.
I surged forward, standing toe-to-toe with him, getting in his face. Our noses nearly touched. Heavy breaths ripped past my lips. I didn’t even know why. Why I finally decided to slice through the bullshit.
“I don’t care what I did to you almost two fucking decades ago, Sebastian.” I stabbed a finger into his chest. “It was a mistake, and I pay for it every day. Dearly. I said my sorrys. I say them all the time. But I am telling you now, if you hurt this woman, I am going to destroy you and not leave anything behind for anyone else to tarnish. You understand?”
His blue eyes shimmered. I wondered if he’d cry. I wondered if he even could. I’d never seen Sebastian cry. Not since he was five. Not even after what I’d done to him.
“If you care about her so much, why did you agree to leave her?”
Because of you, I wanted to scream. Because I was too busy trying to make things better for you. Trying to fix you. I couldn’t save both of you, so I chose you.
I remembered the moment I’d promised Sebastian that I’d stay away from Briar.
He sat in the hospital bed as I held a mirror up, watching him unravel the bandages around his face. The second he saw himself, he vomited. On the mirror. On my arm. On the sheets. On the clinical tiles.
Then, he turned to me, dead serious, and asked, “Do you want to make it up to me?”
I nodded, heart in my throat. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Anything,” I promised.
“I want your happiness.”
I blanched, scared of where he’d take this. “Seb …”
“Walk away from Briar Rose.”
It felt like he’d sucker punched me. “Excuse me?”
“You took away any chance at happiness I had. I’m taking away yours. Leave Briar Rose, live your miserable life without her, and remember what it’s like to have what you care most about ripped away from you.”
I could’ve said no. Told him that he’d only said that out of anger, and fear, and frustration at losing everything. That maybe in a month, or a year, or even five, he would regret he’d ever asked me to give her up.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I agreed.
“Because you asked me to,” I said quietly, even though I didn’t believe myself.
“That’s a steaming pile of bullshit, and you know it.” Sebastian stepped back, shaking his head and turning off the faucet. “But fine. I promise not to tear her limb from limb if she finds her way here.”
“Thank you.”
“But I can’t promise I won’t talk shit about you.”
He was already pulling down his shorts, my cue to leave.
“That’s fine.” I waved a hand behind my back. “Join the club.”
“I’m the chairman.” I slammed the door in his face, shaking my head, but not before he managed to yell, “Don’t worry, Ollie. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure she hates you less than I do.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Oliver
Cannonball off the cliff. Alcohol poisoning. Hanging myself with the server’s waist-length beard, which I swore had found its way into my wine.
I didn’t know how I’d kill myself tonight.
I just knew I would.
Currently, I contemplated grabbing my steak knife and skewering my heart with it. Though I was open to other methods, including (but not limited to) filling my pockets with rocks and hurling myself into the lake (thank you, Virginia Woolf) and good ole hopping into the Lambo and slamming the accelerator the entire journey into the nearest oak tree.