Page 83 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

My stomach lurches, and I can’t tell if I’m going to throw up or just cry. “The landlord. He emailed. I’m going to lose it. He’s taking it away.”

Eden nods as she makes sense of my words. “You mean he’s ending the lease for the Copper Cup?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She pats my back again, like I’m a child. “Let’s not worry about that right now. How about I delete some texts for you, huh?”

I shrug and hand her my phone. It’s pointless, anyway. She won’t be able to delete them faster than they come, either. All the worst things are happening simultaneously. Peppermint is exposed. My relationship is exposed. My friends know. My brother knows. My lease is in jeopardy.

Five years of secrets detonated overnight and I wasn’t even in the room when it happened.

I didn’t get to control the narrative or explain. I didn’t get to frame it or soften it, or choose who heard what first. The secret got out, and now the whole world has declared me a villain. I built an entire identity around controlling the story, and I just had my story told by someone else.

“You missed some messages from Beau,” Eden says softly. “Do you want to read them?”

I shake my head. “I want to text the girls.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you should eat something first. At least get out of this room. The longer you sit here, the more you’re going to spiral.”

“Give me the phone, Eden.”

“Only if you follow me to the couch.” She stands and walks away with my phone. She’s herding me, offering me a carrot like I’m an animal on her family farm. I’m too numb to be offended. I follow her on shaky legs. She only gives me the phone when I’m firmly seated.

“Just remember, you don’t have to say anything right now,” she says. “I’m gonna make you some toast, okay? And coffee, coffee sounds good, huh?”

I don’t answer her, because if she knows I don’t want coffee, she’ll know how thoroughly wrecked I am. I always want coffee. Instead, I compose a message to Cat.

Brinley

I’m so sorry. I know you can’t forgive me.

I deleted the words as soon as I typed them. I don’t want to live in a world where sweet, gentle Cat can’t forgive me. I open a new message to Maura, but I have no idea where to start. What do you say? What words exist for I’m the person who’s been publicly dissecting your lives for years, and I’m also the girl who sat next to you at brunch last week and helped plan your baby shower, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but also you don’t know what they did to me, and I know that doesn’t excuse it, but it explains it, and I need you to know that I love you even though I did this?

There are no words for that. Not yet.

Eden gently sets a plate of toast with strawberry jelly on the coffee table. “I really think you should eat this, Brin.”

“Maybe later,” I say dully.

Eden’s phone buzzes. She glances at it, and her expression shifts slightly. Fuck, did they find Eden’s number, too? Is she getting harassed just for being my friend?

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says brightly. “Coffee should be done. I’ll go get you a cup.”

She darts to the kitchen before I can ask more questions. I sink further down into the couch cushions. I don’t know how I could ever forgive myself if Eden had to deal with the Peppermint fallout, too.

A knock sounds on the door, and I practically jump out of my skin. God, what if it’s an angry stranger? If they found my phone number, they could find my address, right? I creep over and peer through the peephole, half-expecting a stranger in a ski mask with a baseball bat.

It’s not. It’s Beau. He’s standing there with a split lip and got bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept. I open the door.

“They know,” he says as a greeting. The world fell down, and he came. He came to stand next to me in the wreckage instead of siding with the people who are furious with me.

He chose me.

Not cleanly, not soon enough, not the way either of us wanted him to. But when everything collapsed, he chose me. Looking at his split lip and his exhausted eyes, I understand what it cost him.

I don’t fall into his arms. I don’t forgive him. I don’t say that I love him. But I open the door wider and let him in.