Page 35 of Hate To Be Mine

“Well, congratulations. You found me. Mission accomplished. Do you want to send up a flare so your little crew can come over and make fun of me? Look at me and laugh?”

I flinched at the anger in her voice. “No.”

“Go away. Just leave me alone.” She tried to turn away, to hide her face, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped on her rock, and I was standing between her and the path back.

14

BERNADETTE

He was the last person I wanted to see. Fucking Sebastian.

Of course it was him. Of course he found me at my absolute lowest point, crying like a child who’d been bullied on the playground. Clearly, I had pissed off the universe in some way. All because I tried to keep an innocent woman from falling to her death.

My bad.

“Bernadette, what’s going on?”

As if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t orchestrate the bullying. He wanted me broken.

“Go away,” I managed, my voice coming out thick and raw.

But he didn’t. Instead, he moved closer, slowly, like he was approaching a skittish animal. He dropped that cocky swagger and the smirk that seemed permanently attached to his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and his voice was gentler than I’d ever heard it.

“You,” I said simply, because it was true and I was too tired to lie. “You’re what’s wrong.”

He found a rock near mine and sat down, close enough that I could see the concern in those blue eyes. He looked genuinely worried. But was it for me or for his own ass? Was he worried I was going to tattle and he’d get in trouble?

The thought certainly crossed my mind, but I was not that girl. I could handle my shit.

“You’re not the first girl I’ve made cry,” he said.

I rolled my eyes.

“Usually the crying doesn’t happen until after a couple dates, though. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Will you please just leave me alone? I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t think you’re funny. You’re a jerk and the very last person I need right now.”

I didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of him. Didn’t want to show him any more weakness than he’d already witnessed. I always considered myself tough. I had to be, working in a male-dominated field. And working for my father left zero room for weakness. I was constantly proving myself. I didn’t cry. I didn’t break down. I certainly didn’t let men see me fall apart.

But he’d already caught me. And I was so tired of holding it together.

I was exhausted. My head hurt. Basically, I was calling uncle. Mercy. Whatever. They could stone me if they wanted to. I was too damn tired to care.

“I’m a pretty funny guy,” he said.

I couldn’t even find the energy to roll my eyes a second time.

“Seriously, I am. If you gave me a chance, you would see I’m not the dipshit asshole you think I am.”

That was some serious audacity. “I’m supposed to give you a chance? You! Really? You’ve been a dick from the get-go.”

“No, I haven’t. You’ve had some preconceived ideas about who I am. I’ve tried to be nice several times and you just keep shutting me down.”

“Whatever,” I said. “I don’t care. Get me some water and you might be able to redeem yourself.”

He narrowed his eyes at me in confusion. “You want me to fetch you some water?”