Page 106 of Unleashed

“You think?” I snapped. “Start explaining or get the hell out before I throw you out myself.”

“Then stop drinking,” he warned, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “I need you sober for this.”

I took another gulp, defiantly. “Does your family know you’re back? Your mother was heartbroken.”

“They know,” he said flatly. “My parents, at least.”

“And Lincoln?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “That’s... complicated. How do you know what my brother is or isn’t aware of?”

I took a breath, feeling the familiar sting. “You were right about one thing—Lincoln and Erika hit it off.”

Michael’s eyes widened in disbelief. “She’s his girlfriend? How?—?”

“Stop!” I cut him off, slamming the wine bottle down on the counter. “You don’t get to ask questions. I loved you, Michael. Did you think I was lying when I said that?”

He stiffened, the air between us thickening. “I saw you,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?” I asked, the tension wrapping around my chest.

“The weekend you went away with Slade Abbott. I saw you kiss him,” he said, bitterness coating every word.

My heart sank. “You were spying on me?”

“I had to know. To see if I was the only one,” he said, his voice harsh. “You played me, Morgan. Seeing you with him was like a knife to the heart.”

“So your solution was to vanish? To let everyone think you were dead?” My voice cracked with disbelief.

“I didn’t fake my death,” he said sharply. “I’m not dead.”

“But everyone thought you were!” I shot back. “Did you plan this?”

He shook his head. “No. It was an accident.”

“An accident?” I echoed, incredulous. “You disappeared by accident?”

His eyes softened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I had an accident, Morgan. And I didn’t remember anything afterward.”

I stared at him, the words not sinking in. “What are you talking about?”

He took a deep breath. “I remember now. I can explain everything, but you need to listen.”

I crossed my arms, trying to steady the swirling confusion. “Your company shut down. Do you even know what you left behind?”

“My father told me. His lawyers handled it all,” he said, pain flickering in his eyes. “Please, let me explain.”

I reached for the wine bottle again, but Michael’s hand shot out, gripping the neck and pulling it away from me.

“I said I need you sober,” he insisted.

I sighed, pressing my palms flat against the cool granite countertop, waiting. The tension in the room felt unbearable as I braced myself for whatever came next.

“When I saw you with him, it destroyed me,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “You told me you loved me, and then you ran off with Abbott?”

“I loved him too,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “It was complicated.”

He held up a hand. “You can explain later. Let me finish.”

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