Page 69 of Princess and Country

We stayed like this for a very long time. Our hearts bleeding for the same copper-haired girl we’d both loved our entire life.

Dahlia could’ve had Carter all along, but she chose me. Why did it feel so wrong right now? I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face. “I love you, Carter.” A veil of black-inked darkness descended upon us, but thoughts of the baby jolted my heart back to life. I had to think about my child. Make it my priority. My lips curled up at the realization that Dahlia and I would become a family. I huffed. It all seemed surreal.

Carter’s hotel suite door opened, and my girl, my fiancée, the mother of my unborn child, slipped in, worry flooding her moss-green eyes. After she scanned the room—broken furniture, a shattered whiskey bottle, a hole in the wall—her gaze landed on Carter and me, still entangled on the floor. When our eyes met, the hurt I saw in hers broke another chunk of my heart. Her lips quivered. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Dahlia neared us, and I bet if I looked close enough, I would see her heart beating through her shirt, bleeding the same color as Carter’s and mine.

The air in the room thickened.

All these years, lost in our love, we’d never realized how much we’d been hurting the only other person who mattered the most to both of us.

Dahlia kneeled before us. Her perfume, some floral scent she’d been wearing since she was fifteen, swirled around the room and killed some of the tension.

She took a quick intake of air. Jolts of pain fired through me.

“Let me do this,” she said, her voice soft, like a lullaby soothing the demon hovering over us. “Let me take care of him, Jeff. Please.” She begged me with her eyes as more tears soaked her angel face. Dahlia placed her hands on Carter’s, and his shoulders relaxed a little at her touch. “Cart, it’s me. Let me in.” Without lifting his head, Carter nodded. As if she’d done it a million times before, Dahlia unfolded his arms and squeezed herself in between them. They both rested their foreheads against each other. Something powerful existed between them. It always had. Something I’d never be a part of. Something I’d never understand, no matter how hard I tried.

Feeling like an outsider, privy to a scene I wasn’t a part of—or welcomed into—I rose to my feet. “I’ll take his stuff to the car. Just meet us when you’re ready.” My girl nodded, her focus on my brother never faltering.

“I’ve got you,” I heard her whisper as I shut the door behind me, a tightness growing in my chest.

Outside the suite, I met Carter’s chief of security, standing by his door, ready to escort him downstairs. “Give them some time,” I said, my voice laced with emotions, my head hanging low.

The plane ride back to Tennessee took forever. Carter slept almost the entire time. Dahlia sat beside me—sometimes on my lap—but her mind was far away. Sadness clung to her like an invisible cape. This time, not even my love or my words cleared the fog thickening around her.

Exhausted, we made it home the next day. We hadn’t been here together in months, and the ghosts from the last time we were here, fighting, still lingered in the air. Even the upcoming wedding and the baby on the way weren’t enough to lighten up the tension.

Dahlia had dark bags under her eyes and an aura of defeat in her usual proud stance. She looked frail and broken. My heart cracked.

I dropped all our luggage in our bedroom and made her a cup of tea. With our hands linked, we sat on the couch.

“Princess, talk to me. Something’s happened, I can sense it. It’s all over you. Hurt. And sadness.” I held her hands in mine. “Please don’t shut me out. I thought we were doing better. Do you regret saying yes?” Knots tied my stomach as the words escaped my mouth. Were the last few days just a dream? Something I made up in my mind? Dahlia twisted her engagement ring around between her fingers. A lone tear cascaded down her face. She wiped it away with her fingertips. But soon more joined in, and her face turned into a canvas of pain that burned down pieces of my heart. Dahlia lowered her head, her shoulders heaving from the sobs rocking through her.

“I slept with him.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, breaking the gears of my heart. More sobs. “Once.” Oxygen didn’t reach my brain. I blinked. My vision blurred. A hole opened below me, threatening to eat me alive.

It didn’t make sense. I heard her wrong. With my fingers, I rubbed my ears. Shards of glass filled my veins.

“What?” Flames licked the lining of my throat as I spewed the word. The only word I could get out.

Dahlia sobbed, and all I wanted to do was to comfort her. To hold on to her. To hug her—all of her—and promise her we’d be okay. Instead, I stood there, frozen. How could we ever be okay again? My fiancée fucking slept with my brother.

My stomach leaped into my throat.

Instead of leaning over her, I leaned back and jumped to my feet, putting as much distance as possible between us.

Dahlia finally met my eyes. Hers were red, swollen, and full of regrets—or that’s what they looked to me—and mine were—or I assumed they were—full of dark, flaming rage.

I unleashed my fury at her. I yelled. I punched the wall, making another dent in the drywall—man, it hurt. I tugged at the roots of my hair and cursed.

Pain poured out in waves from my crying girlfriend—or fiancée. Was she still even mine? The thought sent another wave of sickness up my throat.

On weak legs, I paced the living room like a lion who’d skipped a meal and about to attack anyone getting too close.

“No. No, no, no. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I can’t stay here,” I yelled.

With a deep inhale, I swallowed down my anger, grabbed my truck keys and a bottle of whiskey, and bolted for the door, almost ripping it from the hinges as I jerked it open.

Outside, the fresh air dissipated some of my misery away. My bleeding heart banged against my ribs. “I can’t do this,” I screamed. My hands shook. I took a long pull of the dark-golden liquor, welcoming the familiar sting down my throat. My life was a stupid joke. Everything I’d always taken for granted mattered no more. The two most important people in my life, the ones I’d give my life for without blinking an eye, had played me.