Page 36 of Sweet Conviction

"Where's your man?" he asks, his tone sharpening.

"His grandfather had a stroke," I whisper, my throat tightening. "Dalton's…he's not himself."

Triton grunts noncommittally.

"Please, give him a chance," I plead softly. "You don't even know him."

"I know enough to know you're calling now because things aren't as peachy-fucking-keen as you want me to believe, baby cousin," he growls, cutting right to the quick. "Married life isn't all it cracked up to be, is it?"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" I snap, sitting upright on the bed as frustration churns through me.

"Let me guess," he continues ruthlessly. "You're finding out that he's emotionally distant, just like your father? And you'retrapped, just like your mom, in a marriage with a man who can't love you? I fucking tried to warn you, Tempest."

"Shut up! You don't know anything about him!" I shout, hating the smug judgment in his voice. As if he knows anything about Dalton.

Maybe he is distant and hiding things, but at least he's loyal. Triton has never been that. He hops from bed to bed like he's trying to fuck his way through every woman in the country.

"And neither do you," Triton retorts harshly.

"You know what? Never mind," I mutter, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "I never should've called. It's clear you're not ever going to give Dalton a fair chance."

"I don't owe him a chance, Tempest. He owes you one," Triton says bluntly before I can end the call. "Are you really sure he's even capable of giving you that?"

I disconnect and hurl my phone across the room with a strangled cry.

I desperately want to block out the question and ignore him, but dammit all, what if he's right? Isn't that exactly what I'm so afraid of? That Dalton's been so weird the last few days because he told me that he loves me and he regrets ever saying it?

That's the fear running rampant through me, laying waste to my heart—that he regrets what he said. That he only said it in the first place because he nearly lost his grandfather and was overwhelmed. And that he only continues to say it because he doesn't know how to take it back now.

That we never had a chance at all.

Curling up on my side, I wrap my arms tightly around myself, choking on a sob as tears spill down my face. My shoulders shake as misery pours out of me.

I don't even hear him come in. But I feel the bed dip as he crawls onto it behind me, pulling me up against his hard body, his arms around me.

"Baby," he breathes against the nape of my neck. "You're breaking my heart. What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," I lie. Naturally, my voice cracks on a sob.

He flips me over to face him, his hand coming up to brush the wetness from my cheeks. "Those tears say different, Tempest. So did the look on your face when I walked out of here half an hour ago. You were upset then, and you're crying now. Talk to me."

I stare up at him, my heart in my throat, bottom lip quivering. God, I love this man so much.

"I'm in love with you," I say.

His hazel eyes drift closed just like always, as if he's reveling in that simple truth, before they pop open again, piercing as they land on me.

"But m-maybe Triton was right, and this was a bad idea," I choke out, my voice cracking.

A flicker of vulnerability crosses his face, and I feel an entire corner of my heart cave in. "You regret marrying me?"

"No," I whisper, shaking my head vehemently as fresh tears spill over. Never. Not even now, when I'm so damn afraid he regrets it.

He cups my cheek, tilting my face up to meet his intense gaze. "Your cousin is wrong, Tempest. This isn't a mistake," he growls. "You and I could never be a mistake."

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong?" I cry, my bottom lip trembling. "Ever since you told me that you love me, you've been different, like you regret saying it."

"Fuck," he growls, jaw clenching. "You think I regret telling you the truth?"

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