ass that he’d moved into the bedroom across the hall from mine.
I had no privacy. No space to cry.
What a waste of a good bodyguard. I wasn’t going to run away, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t mess around with boys.
I burned for one man only.
I hadn’t seen him in three months.
Three fucking months.
Daisy sent texts every week. I never asked about Magnus, but sometimes, she mentioned him in passing. She had no idea anything happened between him and me. No one knew. When Justin cleaned out my dorm after Christmas break, he told all the spectators I didn’t like the school and decided not to return.
Magnus had a lot of time on his hands now. No more one-on-one lessons with me. No afternoon punishments. I hoped he was spending that time on himself, searching his heart and figuring out what he wanted.
More than anything, I hoped he wasn’t hurting.
I hoped he didn’t feel the suffering I felt over the past three months.
This was only the beginning. The beginning of the rest of my life without him.
I would never see him again.
Why couldn’t I just die? I didn’t want to take my own life. But sometimes, when I lay in bed, alone and hurting down to the depths of my soul, I wished for a terminal disease or a fatal lightning strike or a venomous spider bite. I wanted the choice to be taken from me. I just… I needed this pain to go away.
“You could graduate right now if you wanted.” Mindy, my private tutor, scrutinized me over the lenses of her glasses. “You’re very smart, Tinsley. You’ve already mastered all the material.” She rested her forearms on the table in my father’s study, tapping a pen against the surface. “Every day, I come in here and bore you to tears.”
It wasn’t boredom.
I was profoundly, inconsolably sad. The kind of sad that couldn’t be medicated or counseled. There was no cure for heartbreak.
But she was right. I could take the tests now, earn my diploma, and be done with high school.
It would change nothing.
My future wasn’t waiting on my graduation. It was waiting on Tucker. He would graduate from St. John de Brebeuf in May, spend the summer traveling, spreading his seed to women far and wide and living his male privilege to the fullest.
My mother intended to announce our engagement at her annual winter ball. There would be no proposal. No courtship. Just the contract, which was already signed and waiting for Tucker to settle down and step into his role.
“If I took the final tests now,” I asked without enthusiasm or care, “what would I do for the next two months?”
“You can get a jump on your college studies. You can study topics that interest you.”
I could read the books Magnus had put on my e-reader and learn how to run an animal shelter that I would never have. There was no place for that in Bishop’s Landing. I would be expected to attend parties, look pretty, and smile like a princess for our royal subjects.
I felt sick.
“I’m finished for the day.” I closed my laptop and slumped back in the chair.
Familiar with my moods, Mindy packed up her belongings and left. The instant the door shut behind her, I wept. Quiet tears coursed down my cheeks. I couldn’t help it. My misery was constant.
Galen sat on the couch, his gaze on his phone, probably sick to death of watching me cry. He saw it every day and never said a word.
Perry had mentioned he was retired military. That fit his hardened exterior. But he had a softness in his brown eyes. Compassion. I felt it as he rose from the couch and handed me a tissue. He carried them in his pocket just for me.
“Eat.” He pointed at my untouched breakfast on the table.
How could I eat? How could I, knowing it wouldn’t fill the emptiness?
“I said eat,” he growled, losing patience.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’ve watched you lose weight for three months. Weight that you don’t have to lose. If you drop another pound, you’ll disappear.”
“I want to disappear,” I whispered.
I want to die.
“You’ll eat if I have to force it down your throat.” He slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the dishes.
This was the tenth time in as many days that he’d stood over me, threatening me with food.
He didn’t know the source of my grief. To him, I was just a self-absorbed rich girl, wallowing in her mansion. My mother had probably tasked him