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I swallow the bile rising in my throat. For the first time, I’m nervous around him. I can’t move. My feet are cemented to the ground. “No, I was going to tell you when you got back.”
“And what if I didn’t make it back, Saint? Hmm? Because Cash sure as fuck didn’t.” He winces and looks away from me. Right now, a smart person would retreat from Brantley. They’d read the signals he’s setting off and stay away. You don’t walk into a lion’s den after it tried to eat you, right? Apparently, I would.
I slide into the seat beside him. He doesn’t move. The whiskey in his hand is halfway full. “But it wasn’t you.”
“It should have been.” He shakes his head. “That’s all I kept thinking when it happened, was that it should have been me. Cash matters to people. He has parents who care about him, and a job that is important.” He brings the bottle to his mouth and takes a hard swallow. He hisses, “I have no one. No family. No important job. In fact, I’m almost certain that people would live without me here for that job. Literally.” He turns to face me. “But then I was told that you were pregnant.” His eyes travel down to my stomach. “And do you know what that does, Saint? It makes me weak. Because now I do have something.”
“Listen to me,” I say, grabbing his cheek and turning him to face me. “Even without this child, you still had a family. You have people who love you. Everyone loves you, Brantley. Your duty with The Kings, it’s what you’ve been raised to do. If you don’t want to do it, I’m sure Bishop will work around that for you, but here’s the fact.” I take a slow but deep inhale, ru
His eyes narrow. “You would fucking kill yourself? If you say yes, I’ll do it for you right now because that is not fucking happening. Ever.”
I shake my head. “No, but my heart would literally break. We’re darkness and light, and one ca
“I don’t deserve you,” Brantley whispers, his eyes losing focus.
“You deserve so much more than you know.” I lean backward and rest against the chair. “I’m sorry about Cash.”
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Me too.” I shuffle around to look at him, curling my leg under my other. “We can talk about this baby when you’re ready. I don’t want to rush you into having the conversation.”
He runs his finger over his upper lip, his eyes not moving from mine. My neck always aches at how high I have to look up at him. “How long have you known?”
I stifle a sarcastic laugh. “Since yesterday. Veronica knew somehow, and then when the girls got me out of wherever that was, we stopped off at the convenience store on the way here. I took a test and swore them not to tell.”
He rolls his eyes. “So they’ve all been hiding it, too?”
“They have, only because I asked them to. They didn’t want to and warned me that they can’t keep secrets from Nate and Bishop.”
“And can you?” he asks, and the smooth tone he allows his words to wrap around makes my stomach flip.
“Can I what?” I play dumb.
“Can you hide shit from me?”
I rest my head on his outstretched arm, shaking my head. “It only made it easy because so much was going on.”
He takes another swig of whiskey. “I can’t right now, Saint. I can’t have this conversation. I can’t even—” He clenches his jaw. “Meet me upstairs. We’re sleeping in the room opposite Madison’s.”
“Brantley, I—”
“—Saint? Please. I just need a minute.”
My mouth closes and I pull back from him, giving him his space. When I climb out of the booth and make my way to the doorway, I know whatever is going on inside his head right now is a war that only he can fight.
I drag my tired body upstairs. The house is quiet for how many people are sleeping inside of it. I find our bedroom and drop down on top of the bedcovers, not even bothering to shower or to get beneath them.
The mattress sinks beside me and I turn onto my side, wincing when my legs feel numb from pins and needles. I don’t know what time it is, but I’m guessing I had a decent amount of sleep, so it’s either really early or really late.
He’s shirtless and wearing nothing but his briefs, sliding under the covers. I don’t speak. Nervous with what to say to him. His hand finds me as he wraps me in his arms, pulling me into his chest. I sigh when I feel his skin against mine, and it’s not long before we’re both drifting off. Without noise. Without the need to speak. Just in comfortable silence.
I fling my arm onto the other side of the bed the next morning, hoping to find Brantley there, but I’m met with an emptiness big enough to deepen the void inside my heart. It’s just after six a.m. Why is he awake?
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, brushing my hair away from my face when there’s a knock on my door. “Come in.”
“Morning,” Tillie says from the threshold. I look up to see she’s carrying a longboard filled with food. I cross my legs beneath myself. Did she just bring me breakfast in bed?
I wave her onto the bed, patting the puffed-up blankets. “What have you got?”
“Well,” she pipes up, placing the breakfast platter on the bed sheet, just as Madison strolls in swiping a towel over her face. She’s dressed in gym clothes, a sports bra and tight little spandex shorts.
“Have you been fucking ru
Madison closes the door, picking up the discarded bacon and biting into it. “Tillie, I’m pregnant. That doesn’t mean my love for fitness stops.”
Tillie rolls her eyes. “I love you, but no.”
Madison kicks off her ru
I run my tongue over my top lip and reach for one of the egg muffins. “He’s not okay. I think he’s upset with me about the pregnancy, but I just don’t know if he’s upset because I’m pregnant or because I didn’t tell him that I was pregnant.” I sink my teeth into the muffin and stifle a moan when salted butter slips down my throat. God. Has food always tasted this good, or does pregnancy just make you think it is?
“He will come around,” Madison says, tapping my leg. “If there’s one thing I have learned from being with Bishop, it’s that sometimes it’s not easy to love them. Actually, I would go so far as to say that they’re probably the most unlovable men walking this earth.”
“Geez, Mads. Tell us how you really feel…” Tillie’s fingers wrap around her hot chocolate.
“No, I’m serious,” Madison says, picking at the family of grapes on the platter. She slips one between her lips and chews slowly. “They’re not easy to love, but that’s what makes their love worth it in the end. Because you both had to fight for it. Blood, guts, gore, and at times, barely hanging on by the edges of your claws. You hang on to them because, even when they don’t love you back, what they give you is enough until they do.” Her eyes come to mine. “Brantley is by far the worst of their kind, Saint. When I first met him in The Hamptons, he sent chills down my spine that I have never been able to shake. But that monster, that beautifully flawed, dark and demonic monster loves you. In his own fucked-up way he does. And if anyone is an expert on fucked-up love, it’s me.” She rolls her eyes. “You should fight for him.” Even though I already knew what she had said, it still pains me to hold back the tears that threaten. I already love him. I think I loved him the very first day he took my hand and led me into his hell. He didn’t lead me into hell to suffer; he brought me in to sit beside his throne.