Page 8 of Vengeful Secret

I shrugged. “I have no fucking idea. I just made it up.”

She threw back her head and laughed, her thick, chestnut hair flowing down her back.

The sound of her laughter made my heart hurt for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, but I knew I wanted her closer.

I pulled her against my chest and pressed my lips against hers, and hers parted with a moan.

Once upon a time, I thought Sutton and I would be together forever. I thought we’d have a big family, just like my mother and father. I’d wanted everything with her.

But the way my life has gone, I guess it’s for the best that we split.

I wouldn’t want her wrapped up in the life I have now. All this danger, all these responsibilities…

“Gray?” Nessa jerks me back to the present, and I look up at her, slack-jawed.

“Yeah?”

“I said, do you want another?”

I look down to see that my glass is almost empty. I shake my head, not even sure why I’m denying more alcohol. It’s not like I feel any better. But I suppose I’ve been hoping for a distraction, and I’ve been granted one.

I just didn’t expect it to be Sutton.

She’s more beautiful than I remember, and my chest aches just looking at her. She hasn’t recognized me, but then again, she’s not paying attention, either, just seems to be having fun with her friends.

Idon’tlike to approach women in groups, but here I am, considering approaching Sutton while she’s out with her friends.

How will she respond? Will she reject me outright? Slap me across the face? She’d be well within her rights to do either of those things.

I watch as she takes her phone out of her purse, walking away from the group toward the door. Her expression changes, shifting, and I can’t quite pinpoint what emotion she might be feeling.

Part of me wants to go to her, talk to her, and the other part of me—a big part—wants to exit through the back door.

I pull out my wallet, slipping Nessa a hundred-dollar bill just in case I do decide to run.

“You Burkes are so generous,” Nessa coos, but I’m past paying attention to her.

My eyes are stuck on Sutton’s beautiful face, tracing her high cheekbones with my gaze, noticing that little scar she has on her left eyebrow.

I probablyshouldrun. I probably shouldn’t open up old wounds, shouldn’t risk speaking to her again.

But something in me wants to know what she’s been doing all these years.

Is she married? Divorced? Does she have children? It’s been five years, any number of things could have happened.

The idea of her having a husband makes my stomach churn, but I push those thoughts away. It’s not my business anymore.

What’s the harm in just approaching her? Seeing what she’s been up to?

It’s just like talking to Nessa, right? It doesn’t have to be more than that.

Of course it’s more than that.It’s Sutton, for God’s sake.

Maybe I should let bygones be bygones, but I’ve never been one to listen to rationality—I act when I want to act, and right now, what I want to do is talk to Sutton.

After all, what’s the worst that can happen?

3

---