The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,325

friend. But it’s clear that was a hopeful delusion. It hurts to see that so clearly. There’s nothing of the heartbreak I’m feeling in Matty’s expression now. In fact, her eyes are completely unreadable.

I can’t hide mine and I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’s hurt me.

“Good luck, Matty. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a safe trip home.” Then, for the second time, I turn away from the sister my heart chose. This time, I don’t look back.

I walk into my suite and shut the door behind me. I press my back to it, draw in huge a lungful of air. I press my hands to my heated cheeks and pull them away in surprise.

I stare at the moisture on my fingers in confusion for a few minutes before I realize there’s more running down my face.

I haven’t cried since the night I found out my husband had made a mockery of my entire existence. Before that was five years prior when my grandfather died.

Nothing had ever hurt as much as those things had, not before or since. But to hear myself cast like that and to know that there were some truths laced in with the ugly accusations she made. My eyes fall on the small box that we brought Jack’s ashes in. Oh my God, my best friend is dead and the other one might as well be.

My emotions, so long pushed down, ignored, smothered swirl inside of me like a thousand tornadoes looking for a way out. They are tearing me up inside, but I don’t know how to free them.

The door to my suite opens and I spin around, wide eyed with fear that Marcel is here.

“Hey, I used my key…” Stone trails off in mid-sentence when he sees me. “What happened?” He glances over her shoulder and then moves into the suite, his eyes scanning the room.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. So, I reach out and in the space of two breaths, his warm hand is gripping mine.

“I’ve got you.” He wraps a strong arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. I nestle into the warm, clean smelling sanctuary of his chest and cling to him

“It’s okay. Let it all out, and when you’re done, I’ll be here. You won’t have to do it alone,” Those words are an echo in time. So is the absolute comfort I feel letting my guard down with him.

I’ve never felt delicate—not once in my whole life—until this man made me his lover. He’s strong enough for both of us. So safe in the harbor of his arms, I let the storm raging inside of me loose.

Chapter 17

Come With Me

Stone

Regan isn’t crying. She is grieving. Her sobs are laments punctuated by hiccups, and sniffles. Her fingers clutch the front of my shirt. Her hot tears soak through the cotton, and she trembles like she’s freezing.

The sixteen year old boy I’d been when she got married hoped she’d be miserable. But the man I am today hates to think that she has been. I’m glad I took the gamble and came up when I did.

I’ve never seen anyone pale as fast as she did when she heard that voice on the elevator speakers. She looked like her life had flashed in front of her eyes. She said she’d call me, but I knew she wouldn’t.

If I was going to see her again, I’d have to make it happen. I went to the bar to weigh my options.

I’d be off on my road trip in the morning and would likely not see her again. But… she was so ready on the elevator. I could smell it on her. She wants me as much as I want her.

When I went to settle my tab, I found her keycard in my wallet. It felt like a sign.

I passed her friend in the hallway and the wrathful expression on her tear streaked face gave me pause. If Regan was as angry as her friend looked, then this would likely be a short visit.

I opened the door slowly, expecting to find her in a lather. Instead, she stood in the middle of the room, her eyes full of regret, her trembling mouth moving wordlessly. She looked like someone dropped a bomb on her.

I carried her to the couch and we’ve been sitting like this, with her in my lap crying like someone died.

When her sobs subside to soft sniffles.