Page 73 of Beloved Sacrifice

“It’s not about that. It’s not about that at all!”

“Then what is it about?”

“I loved you.” Rose’s breath trembled, her hand clenched at her sides, and her eyes sparkled with emotion. “I loved you. You died and suddenly there was no hope. I had to mourn you in secret.” She licked her lips. “I would dream you were still alive and wake up sobbing.”

“Knowing I was alive wouldn’t have helped.”

“If you believe that then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

“Damn it, Rose! By the time I was functional enough to even begin to think about calling you, nearly a year had passed.”

Rose didn’t reply. She turned to look at the fire, and he realized that her dress wasn’t really a dress, it was probably lingerie, meant to show off a woman’s body and entice. He forced his attention from Rose to Marek.

“Why didn’t you call?” Marek asked in measured tones.

“She was…she was safe. She was with my brother.”

Rose whirled but didn’t speak.

“You mean she was in a relationship with your brother,” Marek supplied.

Weston nodded.

“Is one of the reasons you didn’t reach out because the girl you loved was now with someone else? Because she loved someone else?”

Damn it. He could ignore the question, or he could tell the truth.

“Yes.”

Rose sucked in a breath.

“It was stupid. Immature.” Weston didn’t look at her as he admitted that. “But when I was able to track down information about you, get a PI to take some photos, I realized that you were with Caden. That…that hurt. Then once you turned eighteen and joined a BDSM club with him…” Weston had to swallow to get the words out. She deserved the truth, in no small part because Caden was gone. “I realized that you were safe with him, happy with him. You didn’t want to be…be my submissive, and I didn’t want to be your Dom, but you were able to submit for Caden. And I knew Caden would protect you from our parents, so I decided to focus on a long-term solution. I drove myself night and day to find a way to get Tabby away from them, and figure out what they were hiding.”

One of the logs on the fire cracked, and a little puff of sparks rose up. When the last spark winked out, Weston let out the breath he’d been holding. He sat down.

“So that’s it,” he said. “You were right, I should have told you I was alive. I could have kept doing what I was doing even if you knew. But you’d moved on, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”

“And your heart was broken,” Marek said.

Weston flinched, then nodded.

“And,” Marek continued, “you’ve never really stopped loving Rose. Even though she was with someone else.”

“Damn you,” Weston whispered, so low only Marek could hear the words. “What do you want?”

“It’s not what I want that matters,” Marek replied in an equally quiet voice. “You’re hiding from one another. Hiding from the truth.”

“You must think I’m a coward,” Weston said. That stung, even though it shouldn’t matter what Marek thought.

“No. Not at all.” Marek raised his voice, once more speaking so Rose could hear. “You never stopped loving Rose, even now, did you?”

“No, no, I didn’t.” Weston stared into the full teacup he still held, then set it down on the table.

Rose made a strangled sound.

Weston didn’t look up. He figured she’d respond with either pity or derision, and both prospects were soul-crushingly horrible.

Marek laid a hand on his shoulder. Weston didn’t turn. Marek was on his right and he would have had to turn a full ninety degrees to see him out of his good eye, and he just didn’t feel like moving that much. Now that he’d admitted to it all, he felt small and stupid—as if everything he’d done since that fateful day was worthless. No, not worthless—inadequate.

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