Page 111 of Charming Deception

“Mine didn’t get handed to me either. I worked for it from the time I was old enough to put on skates.”

“Yeah. Because Dad was a loser who never did anything with his life except pin all his hopes and dreams on his little boy becoming a hockey star. He put everything we had into you.”

Cole huffs out a frustrated breath. “And I’m sorry about that. But it’s not my fault. I was an innocent kid in that situation, just like you were. I didn’t know how badly he neglected you.”

“Because you weren’t there.”

He scrapes a hand through his hair, frustrated, and starts pacing again. “You want to punish me for things in the past that I can’t change. Things that were never even my fault to begin with.”

“I don’t want to punish you.”

“You do. Deep down, you do. And I don’t blame you. Because you can’t punish him.”

Ugh. He’s right about that.

You can’t do anything to affect someone who just doesn’t care, and our dad doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t even care about Cole.

Cody Hudson only cares about himself.

Narcissists are like that.

“He has no fucking conscience about any of it,” he growls. “I know that. He doesn’t give a shit, because he’s not capable of it. He’s a sick fuck. And that’s not your fault or mine.”

I take a deep breath, trying damn hard not to take my daddy issues out on my brother. Is that really what I’m doing?

“You’ve taken care of them both, I know,” I tell him. He bought both Mom and Dad a house once he was making money playing hockey, and he always made sure Mom had what she needed, in a way that no one had ever done for her before. “And you know I appreciate what you’ve done for Mom. But I don’t need you to take care of me.”

He fires me a look. “So you’re letting Jameson take care of you instead?”

“It’s not like that. He’s not just giving me a handout.”

“No. You’re putting out for it. Am I right?”

What the fuck.

“You just called me a whore, Cole. What do you think Mom would think of that?” I adjust the dress self-consciously, trying to cover more of my cleavage.

He stops pacing and swipes a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. That was way out of line.”

“He hasn’t even touched me. If it makes you feel better.”

“Megan.” My brother’s tone softens. “Fuck. It’s not even my business. You’re both adults. Shit. I’m sorry I assumed something bad was happening. I just don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.”

Yeah. I can see that. He flew here to intervene because he obviously thought he needed to.

And I love him for it.

But I don’t need him to.

“You think that’s all he could possibly want from me?” I ask in a small voice.

He chews on that for a minute. “I fucking hope not. You’re worth way more than that.”

“He asked me to be his fiancée. Not his fuck toy.”

“Jesus, Megan.”

“He’s a good man.” Damn. Here I am, defending my new fiancé now, when I barely know him.

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