Just a Little Heartache (The Brotherhood #5) - Merry Farmer Page 0,44

choke out.

“Niall, I—”

“But I will never forgive you for this,” Niall cut him off.

He turned away before Blake could say anything else, retreating to the far end of the room to dress in the ordinary clothes of his ordinary life. Nothing would ever feel extraordinary for him again.

Chapter 10

The deep, bitter gloom that settled over Niall as soon as he cleaned up, dressed, and fled the dressing room, leaving Blake behind without a word as he, too, cleaned up, stayed with him through the night. Once the heat of passion cooled and the sting of surprise faded, he was left with nothing but a gaping hole in his chest where Blake had been ripped out of his heart.

He was grateful that he’d managed to secure a single room in his dormitory. With the door locked tight, no one could see him weep his way through the night, curled into a ball on his bed, not even bothering to change out of his rumpled and messy clothes. The scent of Blake and sex lingered on him, and he was loath to let it go. He wanted to smell Blake on him always, to feel the heat of his body and taste the salt of his skin against his tongue for as long as he could. He wanted to hear the sound of Blake’s laughter and his singing in everything around him. He wanted his prick to throb with Blake’s touch for the rest of his life, even if that meant he had to walk around in a state of arousal every day. He didn’t think he could bear it if his sensual memories of Blake faded into hazy nostalgia, like he knew they were destined to.

By morning, after barely any sleep, his head pounding, his eyes sore, and his mouth dry, Niall was beginning to have second thoughts. The pain was too acute. The rage at having the most precious thing he’d ever known ripped away from him—and by Blake’s own hands—was too much. He wanted nothing to do with a man who could toss aside love so cavalierly, without even trying to find an alternative way to be together. He wanted Blake erased from his memory forever.

He pushed himself out of bed, lurching toward his desk and throwing open the top drawer. The letters he’d received from Blake were all there, tied with a sentimental pink ribbon. He yanked the bundle out of the drawer and stumbled over to the fireplace. The fire had gone out during the night, so he poked at the embers, added kindling and coals to the heap, then went to work with a tinder box, relighting the flames.

The task took long enough that by the time he snatched up the bundle of Blake’s letters again, he was having second thoughts. He stared at the bundle, his throat squeezing and tears threatening to fall all over again. For all he knew, the lurid scene in the dressing room the night before was the last time he would ever speak to Blake, ever see him, even. Did he really want to destroy every beautiful thing his lover had ever written to him, now that things had ended?

He sat there, glaring at the bundle of letters until he lost track of time. The fire heated the room to a sweltering degree, but the sweat that dripped down Niall’s back seemed only fitting.

When a knock sounded at his door, Niall jumped.

“Cristofori, get up,” John’s voice sounded through the barrier. “You’re going to be late for commencement.”

Niall dragged himself to his feet when John knocked again instead just going away. With a deep scowl, he opened the door.

John didn’t seem at all surprised to see him in a terrible state. His friend sighed sympathetically, pity in his eyes. “You owe me and David a favor,” he said.

Niall’s frown turned to confusion. “What? Why?” His words came out rough and weak.

“That little scene you played out with Blake in the dressing room last night.” John lowered his voice and glanced up and down the hall to make sure they weren’t being observed. “You were loud as fuck. Lord Selby came looking for his son, and it was everything David and I could do to get rid of him and keep the hall clear until the two of you had it out.”

Niall’s face burned hot and he glanced away, too embarrassed to meet John’s eyes.

John surprised him by clapping a hand to his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you