Breaking South (Turner Artist Rocker #3) - Alyson Santos Page 0,54
response. “No. I didn’t come here for that. I came here because I know I don’t deserve him, but I’m falling in love with him and I want to find a way to help make this better for him.”
He stares at me for a moment, his hard features hardening further as he searches me. I stare right back, challenging him to find a false note in my statement. I spoke the truth, including a confession I didn’t even know was there until I heard it pouring out. Am I falling in love with him? Hard. I’m falling hard.
After what seems like hours, he finally breathes out a heavy sigh accompanied by a dry chuckle. “I’ll be damned,” he mutters to himself. “That idiot prince literally snagged a princess.”
My brow furrows in response, the instinctive protest rising on my tongue. And then—it stops. A smile slips out instead, especially when iron-warrior Raffie Sanderson levels an amused look at me. “He did,” I say sternly. “So what are we going to do about this?”
Raffie runs something through his mind before settling back in his seat. “First, let me ask you something. Do you know why Ollie rents that crappy apartment downstairs from me?”
“It’s not crap—”
Raffie waves me off with a smirk. “Come on, Ms. Fox. I can only imagine what kind of castle a princess like you lives in. You’ve seen his place. My grandmother has more room at her care home.”
I shrug. “He said he doesn’t need much.”
“No, that’s true.” Raffie locks his hands behind his head as he leans back. “What he probably left out, if I know my boy, is that he’s basically broke because he sends most of his paycheck home to Quebec. He supports his entire family of six. Did he tell you that?”
My heart rocks in my chest. “No,” I say quietly. But I’m not surprised.
“He tell you his father died when he was thirteen? His older brother two years later? That he’s felt pressure to provide for them since he was just a kid in juniors? That boy has worked his ass off every day of his life, not just for himself, but for everyone around him. His family, his coaches, his teammates. He’s never known a world where he wasn’t looking out for everyone else. Why do you think we’re all so worried about this damn knee injury? For the first time in his life, his survival depends on doing the one thing he can’t seem to get his thick skull around: fucking taking care of himself. He’s got one job to do right now, look out for Oliver Levesque, and what’s the first thing he does? Tackle your shit. My shit. Fucking front office brass who are parading him around for public charity and press parties. He tell you any of that, Genevieve? Do you truly understand the level of pressure on that kid right now?”
I shake my head, emotion burning behind my eyes.
“No, I’m sure he didn’t,” Raffie says, relaxing back into the cushion. “If I had to guess, he probably listened to you whine about your rich girl problems. Nursed your wounds. Made you feel like the world revolved around you.” He holds up his hands when I stiffen. “Hey, that’s not a knock on you. He does that for everyone. Me included. Kels, my boys. Everyone. That’s the way he is. Everyone else comes first. That’s also why those who truly care about him need to step in and play hardball on his behalf.”
“That’s why you don’t like me,” I say quietly. He lifts a brow, and I shrug. “I could tell Kelsie wasn’t a fan the first time I visited. Last night at the club wasn’t exactly a love fest either between us.”
“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry. He sighs. “Look, it’s not personal. I’m sure you’re a nice girl, but that doesn’t mean you’re good for him or his recovery.”
I nod slowly, wincing inwardly at his words. He’s got a point. Haven’t I been worried about exactly that? How many times has he come back limping after a fight with me? I’m a setback for him. An obstacle at a time when he needs to be clearing them as much as possible. The question burns in my throat, slithers onto my tongue like venom. Am I willing to give him up? Is he worth the pain of living without him? I think I’ve known the answer since the moment we met.