Rogue Devil (The Rourkes #11) - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,62

was a bad bet.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?”

“It’s a natural parting time.”

More glaring.

I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Bren, you’ve somehow become my best friend. Friends can pick up whenever, no hard feelings. It’s not the same with a relationship. I won’t have the time or energy to devote to one. Not the way you deserve.” My voice catches. “I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“I’m sorry.” I wring my hands together and stare at them. “I don’t regret our time. I’m so…thankful for what we had.”

“Thankful? Thankful!” he barks, startling me.

He looks to the ceiling, takes a deep breath, and levels his gaze on me. “Chloe, I know you. You pull away when things get intense. I know we’re in deep, both of us. I’m asking you to stick with me, and I swear I’ll stick with you too.”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought. It’s the right thing.” I swallow over the lump in my throat. “What if we stick together as best friends?” A small ray of hope shines through at the thought. I won’t have to completely lose him.

“No.”

My stomach drops. “No?”

“No, Chloe,” he bites out. “I don’t want you as a friend.”

“Don’t you see it’s for your own good? I’m giving you your freedom.”

His lips form a flat line. “For someone so smart, you’re doing something really stupid.” He stands and stalks to the front door.

I leap off the sofa. “You’ll see I’m right. Give it time.”

He stills for a moment, shakes his head, and walks out the door.

I slap a hand over my mouth, my eyes hot, my gut churning horrifically. It’s over, and now he hates me. Oh God, I’m going to be sick.

I race to the bathroom and vomit. Isn’t that just the perfect metaphor for the way my relationships end? Down the toilet.

17

Chloe

The next morning I walk across the tarmac to the royal jet like a zombie. I barely slept last night. I kept replaying my night with Brendan. Our dinner together, his blue eyes warm on mine, the way his deep voice seemed to reach out and caress me. And then later, my attempt to painlessly get out of his way. I hurt him, and that’s what hurts me the most. But what was the alternative? Let it drag on as we gradually drift apart until there’s nothing left between us? It had to end at some point. It will only hurt more postponing the inevitable.

A flight attendant meets me halfway, taking my luggage for me. “Good morning, Miss Chloe.”

“Morning,” I say absently. I check his name tag since I don’t recognize him from previous flights. “Nice to meet you, Henry.” That’s my nephew’s name too. At least I’ll have baby Henry to comfort me.

I trudge up the stairs to the jet’s entrance, my backpack over my shoulder. I plan to work on med school applications on the flight, figuring keeping my mind focused on my future goal will help manage my current agony. My eyes sting with unshed tears. I still can’t seem to cry, even as horrible as I feel. I can’t believe how close I got to Brendan, more than anyone in my life besides my sister, and now it’s over, exactly as I always knew it would be. I just didn’t anticipate this deep level of pain. Like a part of me is missing.

The jet is empty besides the pilot and copilot, who greet me warmly. I can’t manage a smile, but force some energy into my voice to return the greeting.

I take a window seat in the front row and stare at the open field next to the private airport in New Jersey. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. I lean my head back on the headrest and close my eyes.

“Hello,” a familiar deep voice says, landing in the seat next to me.

My eyes fly open. “Brendan! What’re you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing here?”

I stare at him. “Going to Villroy?”

He puts his seatbelt on. “Yup. I’ll be there for a week. Put your seatbelt on.”

I comply, my mind whirling. What does this mean?

The flight attendant checks in with us and lets us know we’ll be leaving shortly.

I can’t seem to put the pieces together after the way we left things last night. I thought he hated me. It doesn’t help that I’m sleep deprived. “Bren, why’re you going to Villroy?”

He stretches his jean-clad legs out and crosses them at the ankles. “I’m a prince. The