If there was ever any doubt as to whether Kit Bishop owned the fucked-up organ beating in my chest and was capable of making me feel something no one else ever could…it no longer exists.
“And then the school shooting happened.” She inhales a shaky breath, as if summoning the strength to continue. “I thought I was going to die…but you saved me. Again.” There are tears in her eyes now and it rips right through me. “I guess I’m just trying to understand how a person who could save me from death multiple times…could hurt me so badly I wish I was dead.”
A deep, wide burn spreads throughout my chest. I never wanted to hurt her, but I did.
So much so she feels like dying would be less agonizing.
“If you would let me explain everything, you’ll realize that was never my intention.”
She shoots me an accusatory look. “How do I know you’re not just gonna lie again?”
It’s a valid question given the position we’re in. However, the fact I’m standing here pleading with her to hear me out should tell her otherwise.
“You think I would have chased you all the way to Hawaii and up this waterfall just to risk losing you for good?”
Hell, if I wanted to lie to her again, I could have saved the money on airfare and made a phone call.
The look she gives me is punishing, designed to put me in my place. “I think you’d stop at nothing to manipulate me as long as it benefited you.”
She’s got me there. I would.
But I’m not manipulating her now because I’ve learned my lesson. From here on out, it’s total honesty.
“Tell me how to fix this.”
Whatever she wants, I’ll gladly give it to her.
Her expression cuts me to the bone. “You can’t. Broken things never work as good as they used to.” The words I once said feel like a slap. “You taught me that.”
“We’re not broken.”
Because it’s not fucking possible.
We hit a wall…but we’ll get over it. Just like we always do.
The resolve in her voice pins me to the spot. “We’re nothing.”
Deep down she knows that’s not true, so I call her bluff because I’m sure as fuck not folding.
With her, I’m betting max and going all in. Because what we have is worth the risk.
“That’s bullshit, angry girl. You and I will never be nothing. No matter how much you try to convince yourself to hate me or how hard you try to push me away…you can’t.”
For the same reason I can’t.
She’s my exception…and I’m her anomaly.
“I just need you to listen to me.”
Hell at this point, I’m contemplating getting down on my knees and begging.
But I don’t have to…because she finally folds.
“You have three minutes.”
Chapter 41
Kit
What am I doing?
Walk away, Kit. Get up and walk away.
But I can’t.
Maybe I’m a masochist, but I need to know why he did what he did.
Why he hurt me so fucking bad. When I trusted him with everything I had and gave him every part of me.
Not wasting a second, Preston starts talking. “Right after you walked in on Becca and me at the hospital, she started hemorrhaging and they took her into emergency surgery. They weren’t sure if her or the baby would make it.” His face goes slack, but there’s no hiding the torment shadowing his eyes. “It had been just over twenty-four hours since I found out he wasn’t mine, but the feelings I had for him didn’t go away. I needed to know he was okay.”
If he’s telling the truth, I can’t fault him for that. I know all too well that feelings don’t just disappear overnight.
No matter how much you may want them to.
“The first time I saw him, I felt like I was gonna pass out from the shock.” His voice is a painful whisper, like every word is physically ripping him to pieces. “He was so small and fragile. So weak. He was barely hanging on.”
The thought of an innocent, helpless baby being so sick makes my chest cave in.
“Becca wasn’t coming down to spend time with him, though.” He runs a hand down his face. “He didn’t have anyone.”
And just like that, my sadness turns to anger. I thought even her self-centeredness had its limits, but evidently not.
“So, I stayed…because I didn’t want him to be alone. I told myself it would only be a few hours—or until Becca made an appearance.” A ragged breath tears out of him. “However, the more time I spent with him, the harder it became to leave. He wasn’t mine, but we had a connection.” Gray orbs the color of catastrophic storm clouds peer down at me. “The kind I’d only experienced once before.”
As much as I want to find fault with what he’s saying and use it to fuel my rage against him…I can’t.
There’s no way in hell I’d ever be able to leave that poor baby, either.
So while I can’t condemn him for staying—or for the bond he developed with an infant fighting for his life—it kills me that it also strengthened his relationship with Becca.
And they became one big happy family.
My back teeth meet with a bitter clack. I’m so disgusted with myself I feel sick.
Stupid, naïve me just had to come along and beg Preston to marry me in exchange for two million dollars.
God, how they must have laughed when they realized they didn’t even have to concoct a plan to get one over on me. I handed them a perfect one tied up with a pretty bow.
All Preston had to do was stay married to me for a year.
Bile rises up my throat, followed by a surge of fury.
They probably figured they could get more money if Preston made me fall for him.
My nails dig into my skin as I speak through my rage. “So, you decided to make it work with Becca and use me. Got it.” Standing, I wipe the dirt off my shorts. “We’re done here.”
“I never tried to make it work with that cunt,” he grinds out with so much venom I freeze. “She’s been the one using me and my connection with Jameson.”
I shouldn’t trust a word he’s saying since he’s already proven he can look me in the eyes and lie.
But if there’s one thing I know about Becca…it’s that she’s the queen of manipulation and using others to get what she wants.
“What do you mean?”
“I give her money so I can visit Jameson once a month.” He must sense the next question burning on my lips because he quickly adds, “Back when I lived in Vegas. The visits have been a lot more frequent since I moved back to Connecticut.” His face twists with shame. “As long as I still abide by her contingencies.”
God, how I hate that word. Because it’s never a provision or stipulation.
It’s always a punishment.
“What contingencies?
“Like I said, I have to help her out financially.” His jaw clenches. “I also have to stay away from you.”
Holy…wow. If what he’s saying is true—and my gut tells me it is because I know Becca—that’s beyond warped.
However, I also know Preston. Or at least I thought I did.