The moment I reached my room, I slammed the heavy door shut, slid down the wood until my knees hit my chest, and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe.
I cried for the loss.
For the betrayal I’d caused.
For the hurt all of us carried.
For the pain I’d felt when I found my mom and how badly I’d wanted to right what’d been done to her.
And for how history had repeated itself.
She’d loved a Byron, and now, I’d followed in her footsteps.
Neither of us got a happy ending. Maybe loving Byron men was a curse in our bloodline.
Like her, I had to swallow down the bitter truth and accept there was no future for Brooks and me.
I lost track of time as I sobbed until a soft knock startled me.
I scrubbed both palms over my wet cheeks and pushed myself off the floor, expecting Elodie or Blair.
Wrong.
A soaking-wet, shattered Brooks stood in the doorway.
“Can I come in?” he asked softly.
For the very first time, he wasn’t taking what he wanted.
He was asking.
He was just as broken by this love as I was.
I stepped aside without saying a word.
He walked in, doing the same, leaving wet footprints on my bedroom floor.
We stood there, both of us soaked, neither of us knowing where to even begin.
I finally shut the door behind him. “How’d you get in here?”
“Snuck in,” he explained.
“My grandfather increased security.”
“Because he’s afraid we’ll come for you?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He came toward me. Every instinct screamed at me to move. I didn’t.
He settled his cold hands on my cheeks. I sucked in a breath at the familiar feel of him holding me.
“Promise me you had no idea,” he pleaded, his voice breaking with the last word.
“I told you I didn’t,” I whispered.
“Promise me.”