Breaking South (Turner Artist Rocker #3) - Alyson Santos Page 0,26

behind me. It’s a strange feeling, so different than the weight of the conference room I just escaped. Once Devin pulls away, I turn to Oliver, almost shy after everything that’s happened between us.

Any lingering shadows dissolve through the current of his warm brown eyes.

I rush toward him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his chest. Color filters in. Air comes lighter. Tense muscles relax into relief.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

His strong arms tighten around me, and I breathe in spice and clean linen. His button-down shirt is soft against my cheek, and for a brief moment, I think I could stand here forever. I think things will be okay. Then—

Twenty-seven cities.

Millions of fans.

Radio interviews.

TV interviews.

Editorial shoots.

Clothing brand.

Fragrance line.

January world tour because—

You are everything.

Julie Sanchez.

And still not enough.

Then.

Panic.

“Genevieve?” Oliver pulls away to search my face, and I blink back the familiar tears.

“Can we just go to my room?” I whisper.

He brushes his thumb under my eye, catching a tear and dissolving it in his fingers. “Lead the way.”

I move quickly through the house, tugging him by the hand behind me. The staff probably thinks I’m desperate to jump my hot boyfriend as we scurry past. Only he knows the truth: That I prefer the lie.

We climb the stairs, his footsteps heavier than I expect below me. I glance back and notice the way he’s favoring his right leg again. Oh no. I didn’t even ask about his knee. I never ask. It’s always about me. My life. My drama. What I need from him. Until I toss him aside. Self-loathing bubbles deep, swirling among the existing sludge inside me.

I close the door behind us, shaking by the time we reach my room. He waits in silence, watching me, his huge presence filling my room, my awareness. Behind me a vista worthy of any lifestyle show stretches to the ocean, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the breathtaking view in front of me. A dull ache spreads through my chest, pounding against my ribs. How much can you want something you don’t deserve? Because he’s everything, and I’m nothing. He’s the sun, and I’m the shadow. And then I see the way he leans to his right.

“Your knee. It’s hurting?”

A crease spreads across his forehead. “Just a little. I’m fine.”

“It was fine earlier.”

He blinks, a thought skating through his head as he runs his hand through his hair. Egg shells. That’s what’s happening here. He doesn’t know what he can say around me anymore. I even ruined our words.

“Tell me the truth. What happened to your knee?” I demand.

He still hesitates, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“I pushed myself too hard this afternoon,” he says finally, meeting my gaze. “After I left here.”

His words drop like an anvil. I knew it. This is my fault. I did this to him. But he doesn’t say that. He never will because he’s good, and I’m broken.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“For what?”

“For hurting your knee.”

His eyes change at my confession, hardening. “You didn’t hurt my knee. I hurt my knee.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have hurt yourself if I hadn’t hurt you first.”

“What?” He looks genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

I shake my head and force a dry laugh. This is going all wrong. I wanted a friend, not another fight. “Never mind. You’re right.”

That only seems to anger him more. I see his fist tighten at his side. “Don’t. Not never mind. What did you mean by that?”

I sigh and cross my arms. My fingers dig into my biceps to block the emotion. “Nothing. Just that, if I hadn’t been a bitch this afternoon, you wouldn’t have gotten mad and had to blow off steam. So really, it’s my fault. Because I’m selfish and stupid and I didn’t even call security so you could get in after asking you to meet me. I’m…” Somewhere along the line, pinching my skin wasn’t enough. The tears broke free, building in my throat. I clear them away, shaking my head to clear that too. But I only seem to jar them further into my vocal cords. A few surge higher, bursting all the way to my eyes. I blink rapidly to stop them. “Anyway, I’m sorry. I’m just sorry for...”

“For what?”

“For being what I am.”

“What’s that? Selfish and stupid?” he echoes, his voice strangely hard and emotionless at the same time.

I nod. “Among other things.”

He stares at me for a moment, and I shrink beneath his perusal.