Page 81 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

“Yeah? How did you think it would go?” he snaps. “You thought I’d give you a hug and welcome you into the family after I found out you’ve been screwing Brinley?”

I swallow. “It wasn’t like that with her. It was more than that⁠—”

“Don’t.” Luke’s voice thunders through the room. “Don’t go there. I don’t want to fucking hear it, Beau.”

I shake my head. He has to let me tell him that Brinley wasn’t some quick fuck to me. He has to know that I love her, like I’ve never loved anyone. “Please, just let me⁠—”

“Get out.” Luke throws the words at me as he turns and stalks toward the bar. He pours himself a shot of whiskey and downs it. Then he throws the shot glass at the ground. It doesn’t break, but rolls awkwardly away across the carpet.

I look around the room. Ryan won’t meet my eyes. Nate looks sick, his face a greenish color. James is still watching me, his face unreadable, and I realize that James knew this was coming. Maybe not tonight. But he knew.

I hang my head. There’s nothing I can do or say to fix this. I’ve been cast out, ejected from the family.

Nobody speaks as I stumble to the elevator and press the button. I watch them, waiting futilely for any hint of softness or forgiveness. Of course, none comes.

As the elevator doors slide shut, I catch my reflection and finally see the full extent of the damage. The split lip, the blood on my collar and drying on my chin. The wan, broken face of a man who just lost the only family he ever chose. I press my back against the elevator wall and close my eyes.

I’m alone. The end came, just like I always knew it would.

As bad as it is for me, it’s about to be worse for Brinley. The guys know she’s Peppermint. So does Nate’s PI, and countless other people who helped with the investigation. It won’t be long before news leaks somehow. Do we have hours, days, weeks before Peppermint’s real name is circulating through every social circle in Toronto? How long before it reaches Brinley’s landlord, her customers, the women she calls her friends?

The elevator opens to my apartment. As soon as the doors slide shut, I dial her number. I pace across the living room as it rings.

“Please, pick up,” I mutter. Of course, it goes to voicemail. She’s ignoring me, maybe ignoring everyone. While the truth literally punches me in the face, she’s still praying it will go away if she ignores it—and me. I have to warn her about the storm that’s coming for her. I try texting her.

Beau

Pick up.

She doesn’t answer that text, or any of the others. So I call her again and again and again. My hands shake hard enough that I practically drop the phone. On the sixth try, I finally give up and leave her a voicemail.

“Hey, Brin, it’s me. The guys know about us. About Peppermint. All of it. It’s not good, Brin, and I don’t know how long they’ll keep it to themselves.” I turn, pacing the other direction. “So call me, please. I know you don’t want me there, so I’ll leave you alone for now and let you sleep. But I’ll be there first thing in the morning. Just—don’t shut me out, okay?” I pause before dropping the words again, but frankly, fuck it. I’ve said them already. Might as well force them on her one more time.

“I love you.”

28

BRINLEY

Ipicked a good night to pop a Xanax and let my phone die.

After Beau’s text about telling Luke, the panic swept over me in a cold sweat. After the baby shower talk, after Giulia, after everything, I couldn’t even think. I haven’t taken the panic attack meds since my doctor prescribed them, just in case. Instead of just calming me down, the pills made me fall asleep on top of the covers in yesterday’s make-up and my underwear. I woke up groggy and confused, blissfully unaware of anything that happened last night.

Now that my phone is charged and I’m dressed in the first pajamas I could reach, I’m starting to get the picture.

My world has already ended.

My phone is a disaster. Notifications are stacked so deep that the screen is just a wall of text. I missed six separate calls from Beau, not counting the texts from him that I haven’t opened.

Beau

Pick up.

Brinley, please.

They know. Everything. Call me.

I gnaw on my lower lip, pacing the five steps between the bed and the closet while I take in the damage.