Page 56 of Forget

Bette snapped her fingers. ‘This is about Jayda, isn’t it? She wants a commitment and you don’t because you’re scared you’ll end up like us?’

Brock winced and ran a hand over his face. ‘Something like that.’

George shook his head. ‘She seems like a lovely girl so don’t screw it up with her.’

Too late, he already had, but hearing the truth from his parents about their relationship had given him insight in a way he’d never expected.

He’d been foolish, allowing his childhood memories to taint the way he viewed commitment. Not that they’d changed his mind about marriage; he’d seen too many of his friends’ marriages go the same route as his parents’ in the early days, with snide put-downs followed by frosty silences. He doubted he’d ever change his mind about living with someone and having them in his face twenty-four-seven but avoiding any kind of relationship because of the past was idiotic.

‘Marriage can be tough, Brock, but it can also be wonderful, having someone who has your back.’ Bette rested her head against George’s shoulder. ‘And no matter what you think about our marriage, the pros have eventually outweighed the cons.’

‘Hear, hear,’ his father said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

‘That’s my cue to leave.’ Brock opened the door, relief warring with foolishness as he struggled to find the right words to tell his parents that while he didn’t get it and probably never would, he admired them for sticking it out when most wouldn’t. ‘For what it’s worth, it takes a lot of courage and determinationto stay when the going gets tough and I’m glad you’re both in a better place now.’

‘Don’t be a stranger, kid,’ George said, sounding gruff.

His mum added, ‘We’d love to see you more often.’

Brock didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t keep so he half nodded before closing the door.

That confrontation had been painful but cathartic.

He had a feeling apologising to Jayda would be a hell of a lot harder.

26

Jayda should becelebrating.

She’d landed her first major donor—Ky, who probably felt guilty for putting the moves on her but she’d take his money nonetheless—and her website had launched without a hitch. Brock must’ve worked through the night to get her software up and running; she should be grateful. Instead, she found herself flipping the middle finger every time she thought of him and that had been often over the last fifteen hours since she’d left his apartment.

He had no idea how badly he’d hurt her, how his overt rejection after she’d put herself out there slammed her back to a time when she’d let insecurity rule.

When she’d got home she’d lain awake all night, rehashing every horrible moment of their discussion in her head, which had awakened her inner vulnerabilities, squashed but never forgotten. Was she not good enough for him? Not smart enough? Not successful enough?

She hated those insidious thoughts because she’d conquered most of her insecurities over the years. But they lingered, waiting to pounce when she least expected it.

And what really pissed her off was that the last time she’d felt this bad had been the night she’d discovered she’d given her virginity to a heartless loser when, ironically, Brock had been around to help her through it. This timehe’dcaused this hollow, gut-wrenching sorrow.

He’d seen the fallout after she’d learned that Deon had only slept with her on a bet, but he didn’t know all of it.

He had no idea she’d struggled with her weight all through uni, starving herself most days so she’d stay popular.

Or how she’d almost ended up with an eating disorder because of her weight obsession.

Or how amazing she’d felt having Deon want to have sex with her, only to discover it had all been a sick, cruel joke and he’d actually laughed about it with his mates.

‘Banging the virgin fat chick’had meant nothing to him and she’d never felt so worthless as she had the night she’d overheard him poking fun at her with his friends.

If it hadn’t been for Brock that night…she hated to think how much worse it could’ve been for her. Deon had humiliated her but Brock had done something far worse.

He’d taken what she’d offered out of love and thrown it back in her face.

That was another thing to keep her up all night: the realisation that she wouldn’t feel this shattered if she didn’t love him. Stupid, to fall for a guy who’d made it clear at the start that they were nothing more than a short-term fling, but she’d gone and done it anyway.

Love hurt like a bitch.

She’d given up seeking other people’s approval a long time ago but her parents’ betrayal of her trust, and now Brock’s, rammed home that she needed to be smarter, harder, tougher.

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