Page 76 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"Scarlett, please. I'm not asking you to forgive me right now. I'm not even asking you to take me back. I'm just asking for a chance to show you that I canfix this. That we can fix this."

I study him. Miles, who was always so charming, so smooth, so confident. Now he's a mess. Broken. Desperate.

And I feel... nothing. Not the love I thought I'd feel. Not the anger I expected. Just a strange, hollow emptiness.

"Do you still love me?" he asks suddenly, his eyes searching mine.

"I know you do. I can see it. We can get past this, Scarlett. I know we can."

I don't answer. Can't answer. Because I don't know if I still love him or if I'm just holding onto the idea of who I thought he was.

"It's late," I say instead, moving toward the door.

"I have to go to bed."

Miles's face falls. "Scarlett—"

"I need time, Miles." I open the door.

"I need to think."

He stands there for a moment, then nods slowly.

"Okay. I understand. But... can I take you to dinner? This weekend? Your favorite place. Just let me try to make this right."

I hesitate. Every rational part of me says no. Says to close this door and move on with my life.

But there's a small part—a part I don't want to acknowledge—that wonders if Miles deserves a chance to explain. If three years together mean anything.

"I'll think about it," I say finally.

Relief floodshis face.

"Thank you. That's all I'm asking. Just... think about it."

He moves toward me, leaning in like he's going to kiss me.

I push him away. "Don't."

He stops immediately, hands raised.

"I'm sorry. I just—"

"Goodnight, Miles."

He nods and steps into the hallway. I watch him walk toward the elevator, then close the door and lock it. I lean against the wood, my heart pounding.

Miles. Here. In my apartment. After two weeks of walking away. Apologizing. Begging for another chance. Looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters. All I can think about is how calm I felt. How detached. Like I was watching the scene play out from a distance instead of living it.

I push off the door and walk to my bedroom. My phone sits on the nightstand, the screen dark. I pick it up and open my messages. Dax's name stares back at me. Two unanswered texts that feel heavier now than they did an hour ago.

Miles wants me back. Wants to prove himself. Wants to fix what he broke. But I don't know if I want him to—I don't know what I want anymore.

I set my phone down and climb into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. Tomorrow I'll think about Miles and his dinner invitation. Tomorrow I'll figure out how I feel and what I want.

Tonight, I just need to sleep.

Chapter Fifteen