Page 166 of Fighting the Forbidden

Those two words are a lit match tossed on the gasoline in my veins. “Don’t tell me to calm down!” I jump out of my chair so fast, it skids backward several inches. “Eight weeks is almost the entire summer. I might already be starting classes by the time you get back.”

“It’ll be okay.” He stands and reaches for me, but I dodge to the side, out of his grasp.

“No, it won’t.” Pressure builds behind my eyeballs. No, no, no. I can’t cry in front of Griff. I won’t.

“Can you go?” I point toward the door.

“What?” Shock twists his face and raises his voice. “No.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.” The tip of my nose stings. I push past Griff. “I’m tired.”

“Molly.”

I can’t look at his face or I’ll cave.

I all but run for the staircase, praying he won’t chase me.

He’s leaving.

He’s been lying to my face for weeks.

Crying in front of him—acting like a baby when he already has so little respect for me—that’s unacceptable.

I gather my humiliation and hold onto it tight all the way up the stairs. Once I’m in the safety of my room, I quietly close the door, and burst into tears.

All by myself.

Griff

Despair wraps around my chest as I watch Molly run up the stairs, fighting off tears. She didn’t want me to see, but I know my girl. Every sign that she was about to cry was written on her face and ripping up her voice.

A magnetic force tugs my body toward the staircase, instinct to go after her and say anything that will chase away her tears.

To repair the damage I caused.

Why didn’t I tell her sooner? She was happy for me at first—before she realized I’d been lying to her for so long.

“So, how’d that work out for you?” Remy steps out of the kitchen with an angry scowl twisting his face, and nods toward the stairs.

I shouldn’t be surprised he caught some of our conversation. Or hell, maybe he’s listened in on the whole disaster. “Not great, but thanks for showing up to gloat.”

“I warned you to tell her.”

I blow out a long, annoyed breath. “I think she would’ve been pissed no matter when I told her.”

“Eh.” He lets out a sharp mocking sound. “I dunno about that.”

“Yeah, because you’re some sort of relationship expert?”

“Maybe not.” He tilts his head toward the stairs and walks around the table to stand in front of me. “But I know my sister pretty damn well.”

“Then get out of my way so I can go talk to her.” I step toward him, and he blocks my path.

“No.” He lifts one hand in a stop gesture but doesn’t touch me. “Let her cool off.”

“Are you fucking serious?” I slap his hand away.

“Go home,” he insists in a lethal tone. “Give her some breathing room.”

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