Pride and Papercuts (The Austens #5) - Staci Hart Page 0,84

out of me like a flock of sparrows. “I assure you, as of right now, I have never hated anyone more in my life.”

“Except you let him kiss you.”

I gave him a look.

“And you liked it.”

The look intensified.

“I’m just saying, maybe you don’t hate him as much as you think.”

“Are you trying to convince me to sleep with Liam?”

“I mean, if you want to do it before I beat him to death, I guess I won’t hold it against you.”

I wadded up the powdered sugary paper and threw it at him. He caught it like an asshole.

“No, you’re right,” he said. “It’s good that we should just be done with them once and for all. Then maybe we can get back to normal.”

I tried to smile, but it was a weak, thin imitation. “Yeah, maybe we can.”

But I had a feeling we’d never have that normal again, no matter how badly we wished for it. And with the horizon hidden behind a thick layer of fog, there was no knowing how long it would be before we found it again.

26

Always a But …

LIAM

I wasn’t sure when I’d become a walking fuckup.

Maybe I’d always been this way.

Of late, I’d made a habit of testing the limits of my relationships, and all of them buckled under the strain. Some broke into shards and slivers so fine, repair was impossible. So sharp, they drew blood, the wounds as angry and red as the day I’d earned them nearly a week ago.

I’d spent the weekend in a self-imposed prison, not a word spoken to Georgie about the kiss. About the words of admission or the words of anger. About the woman who consumed my every thought, influenced my every action. And why? How? She’d reached into my chest and taken the reins of my heart. I was no longer in control, not even now that it was over with no small sense of finality.

The thing was, she wasn’t wrong, not about everything. But neither was I. She assumed so much, never asking for the truth. Instead, she took comfort in her imaginings, never questioning whether she was right. It was easy to presume. To believe a charming snake like Wickham over an irritable bear like me. To think that I’d purposely try to ruin others’ happiness just because I could.

She wasn’t the only one to judge.

When it came to the matter of Laney, I couldn’t seem to find a way to speak so she’d listen, not until we were both angry. And by that time, it was too late, the damage already done.

I shouldn’t have led with her family. I should have been soft, told her the truth in my heart—I wanted her, all of her. Her willful mind, her fiery heart. Her body, yes, but only as a way to reach the rest of her. That avenue didn’t need words, which I was woefully empty of. It only needed her lips and mine in silent accord, reaching past our stubborn natures and into the truths of us. For a moment, we’d reached that place, that in-between where we could meet without obstacle, without the barrier of our pride—a trait which we had an abundance of. For that moment, we were perfect. We were equals.

And then I’d opened my mouth and acted like the monster she believed me to be.

It was the truth of our circumstance. Choosing a Bennet would be opening fire on Catherine, challenging her idea of safety and security. It would mean sacrificing my place at the company my father and grandfather had helped build. This place, this job, was my life, the sum of my goals, bred in me since infancy. It was my legacy, just as it was Georgie’s—leaving was unthinkable. But I couldn’t walk away from Laney either. I couldn’t deny myself what I wanted, but I couldn’t have it all. Seeing each other in secret was the only chance to be with her without upending my entire life, and I saw my mistake in saying so.

Because every good thing was followed by a but.

I want you, but …

I’ve never felt this way, but …

I barely know you, but …

I think I might love you, but …

Quicksand swallowed me up—the more I fought, the faster I sank.

When I’d been alone that night, after the kiss, I’d spent hours counting my regrets, picking out moments when I could have made different choices and aching with the loss of those choices. In my pride, I’d smashed the last bit of