The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,137
grip tighten on me. “I thought it was the only way I could be free of my father, but…” I swallowed the words, unsure if I should go on.
“But?” he prodded almost desperately.
“But you gave me something to fight for. That’s why I came back here. To fight for you.” Although I knew this wasn’t what he’d meant when he said as much on graduation day, his emotional outburst had never once stopped ringing in my head.
His throat bobbed as he pressed his forehead against mine. “You didn’t have to do it alone. God, Bee. I thought I’d lost you forever.”
“Yes, I did. It was me who let him turn me into a coward. I had to face him alone.” I dug my fingers into his chest, wanting to get as close as possible. “And you don’t ever have to worry about losing me again. I’d never let you. I love you.” I felt a fresh bout of tears, remembering his sorrow from this morning. “I always did. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure my father couldn’t come between us anymore. I couldn’t break your heart again, Jamie. Please believe me.”
Jamie took a deep, shuddering breath before standing up straight and looking toward the house. “Where is he?”
“Inside.”
Meeting my gaze, the muscle in his jaw began ticking as he looked me over. “Did he hurt you?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I felt Ever and Wren press in closer, eager to hear the answer as well. I knew what it would mean for my father if he had. Lucky for him, he never got the chance.
I quickly shook my head. When his gaze narrowed, I knew he was looking for a sign that I was lying. “He’s not going to be a problem anymore.”
The steel in my tone made his mouth purse with reluctant amusement. “What did you do?”
“I beat him at his own game,” I boasted as I fiddled with the tie I’d helped him put on this morning. It felt like such a lifetime ago. “I also found evidence that he’s been stealing from his investors and ratted him out.”
“I’m sure it’s a lovely story,” Wren snapped. “Can we go now?” He was looking around as if expecting men with guns to jump out at any moment. Given his background, I suppose it was a very rational fear.
Jamie nodded at him. He then stared in my eyes for a few seconds as if trying to convince himself that I was real before kissing me deeply. When he pulled away, he pointed to his Jeep, his voice was sharp when he spoke. “Get in.”
IT WAS AMAZING THE THINGS Barbette could do to my heart.
Like how she could make it come to a complete fucking stop without ever lifting a finger.
It had been five days since her little standoff with her father, and I was still pouring and obsessing over the printed emails she’d given me. Even after seeing the proof with my own eyes, it was still impossible for me to believe that Elliot could be so vulgar and dismissive of his daughter. Her well-being had been the least of his concerns, and to think I’d left her alone with that monster for five fucking years.
I wasn’t sure what kept me from going over there and wringing his neck, but I figured if Barbette wanted him dead, she would have used that pistol I’d glimpsed in her purse. The only explanation she’d given was that it was his, and I hadn’t bothered questioning her more. I was still tempted to wring her neck, too.
She’d told me she loved me.
The most coveted words I’d ever wanted to hear spill from her lips, and I… I choked. I didn’t expect that. I’d been holding my breath, waiting for her to say it back, and when she did, I fucking choked. I knew Barbette meant it, but I also knew she loved me then, too. Yet she still broke my heart. I guess the why doesn’t matter when all you can remember is the fucking pain. She said she’d waited to tell me until she was sure she wouldn’t break it again, but I was scared as hell to believe her.
A shadow suddenly darkened the wrinkled pages I’d read so many times. Looking up, I found Uncle Thomas standing over me. The circles darkening his puffy eyes were even more pronounced than the day before. Covering up so many lies must be hard work.