Page 69 of Sinner’s Game

He just shook his head, then slumped down on the sofa. After a moment, he held out his hand for her, needing her touch, though he damn well didn’t deserve it. She took it, then sat beside him.

“Ronan. Are you okay?”

His laugh was harsh. “No. I’m really not.”

“Talk to me. Please? I—I know it would be better if no one took a shot at me, but I don’t understand why you’re upset. You’re the one that saved me. You and the team.”

He shook his head. How could he tell her? How could he open that door? Reveal his foibles and failures? The giant gash in his soul.

“Ronan,” she said, reaching for his hands. “Please. Please talk to me.”

He closed his eyes, surprised by his need to do exactly that. To tell this woman the secrets he’d never even told Devlin, his closest friend.

“Ronan?” Her hand was on his face, and she shifted him gently until he was forced to meet her eyes. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But I think it might help. Or if you want, I can just sit here with you.”

He drew in a breath, then cupped her head, feeling the softness of her hair. “You’re an amazing woman, Brandy Bradshaw.” He meant it, too. So many other women had tried to pry his pain out of him, as if they were mining ore, about to tap the motherlode. As if it was all about them.

With Brandy, his pain was his own, and she was offering him nothing more than solace, if and when he wanted it.

What surprised him was that he did want it. For the first time ever, he wanted to tell someone. No. Not someone. Her.

He took her hands in his, then held them in his lap, fixating on their joined fingers rather than her beautiful face. “There was a woman,” he said, the words bitter in his mouth. He drew a ragged breath, his eyes filling with tears. “And I loved her.”

Her grip on his hand tightened, but she said nothing. Just silently urged him to continue talking.

“A long time ago,” he began, the words coming slowly at first. “It all happened so long ago. I was young. Eighteen, with the world in front of me. I’d been accepted into Harvard. My dad was so proud. He was my world back then.”

He shifted on the sofa to face her more directly as she leaned toward him, all her attention on what he was saying, as if he was the only thing that existed in the world right then.

“My mother died when I was six, and I’d grown up with my dad as my best friend. He was my biggest fan, telling me that one day, I’d take over his business, and I’d blow all his success out of the water. And my dad was very, very successful.”

She said nothing, but her eyes said that he mattered. That his pain mattered.

“There was a girl. Michelle. Senior year of high school, and we were in love. Not a teenage love. This was the real thing. She got accepted to Harvard, too, and the plan was that we’d get married after we graduated.” He closed his eyes, then drew in a breath. “Then we found out she was pregnant.”

He felt Brandy’s hand tighten around his, but she didn’t interrupt.

“We were thrilled. We loved each other. We’d get married sooner. I’d get a job, switch to another school where I could go part-time. I’d still end up with a degree in finance, and I’d get work experience at the same time. We were excited. It was all going to be a great adventure, and so long as we had each other, nothing could go wrong.”

“Your father.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes. My father.”

“What happened?” she asked when the silence lingered.

“I made the mistake of telling him everything. He loved me. I thought he’d understand. He didn’t.”

He tugged his hand free, then pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to rub away the headache that was forming. “My father lost it. Completely. He said he knew I’d been screwing the little tramp—his words—but he couldn’t believe that I’d knocked her up. He told me that he wouldn’t have it. He said that he would make sure I didn’t ruin my life.”

He drew a breath, then held it until he was certain the tears were at bay.

“I didn’t ruin my life,” he continued. “My father ruined it for me. He told me that if we didn’t break up, I would regret it, and so would Michelle. That he would make sure she went away. That he’d do whatever it took to make sure of it.”

“How?”

“He didn’t elaborate. I’d never realized how ruthless a man my father was. To me, he’d always been a hero. A loving father. A respected member of the community. But that conversation scared me. I told Michelle about him. That my father was angry. That he wanted her to just disappear. But I told her it didn’t matter. That I had her back, and I always would, and once we were a happy family, I knew he’d love her just as I did.”

“But that’s not what happened.”