Page 54 of Forget

He couldn’t stand her honesty, the way she stood in front of him and talked about taking risks. He was the last person she should take a risk on so he’d deliberately acted like an asshole and his plan to make a clean break had worked.

But at what cost? He’d hurt the one woman he’d ever really cared about—discounting his mum—and it made him sick to his stomach. Yet she could never understand. If he hadn’t beenable to save his mum from the hardship of growing up with an emotionally stunted man, how could he hope to save her?

He couldn’t put Jayda through that. He couldn’t enter a relationship willingly, knowing that he was more like his dad than he cared to admit. He’d seen the similarities along the way—not being able to communicate with women properly, the impatience with their endless prattle, his inability to express affection—but had ignored the signs.

It was why he shunned relationships, because he never wanted to put any woman through what he’d witnessed his father putting his mother through.

Throw in the similarities he’d noticed recently and it had him in a tailspin. No matter how much he cared for Jayda, he wasn’t built for a long-term relationship. She might be strong and confident and willing to take risks but he couldn’t gamble with her heart, not when his own had been fortified for so long.

He would end up breaking both.

As for his parents, he hated how Duke and Pat had been so intuitive to see past the tension and the moods to a strong marriage and he hadn’t. It also annoyed the hell out of him that it had taken him so long to notice the positive changes.

Brock never doubted himself when it came to work but with his folks… he’d screwed up, big time.

He picked up his phone, scowled, and put it down again. He pushed back from his desk and prowled around his apartment, trying to avoid looking at all the places Jayda had been. A futile, impossible task because everywhere he looked he could see her. On his sofa that first night, staring at him as if she wanted to devour him whole. In his kitchen, wearing his T-shirt and little else. Up against the wall near the elevator, wanton and willing…

‘Fuck,’ he muttered, snatching up the phone before he could change his mind.

If he didn’t sort through the issues with his folks, he had no hope of giving Jayda the apology she deserved. They could never be a couple, not in the way she wanted, but he owed her that much.

Deliberately insulting her to drive her away had been the coward’s way out. She deserved better. And while he might not be able to reveal the whole truth about his relationship phobia, he could give her a polite, platonic goodbye that wouldn’t leave her hurt and him looking like an asshole.

Yeah, a clean, concise break-up. Much better.

But first he had to visit his folks.

‘Thanks for meeting me here.’Brock gave his mother a hug outside George’s hospital room.

‘Your text sounded urgent?’ She scanned his face, worry clouding her eyes. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah.’

The lie tripped from his lips the same way it had every time she’d asked him the same question as a kid. When his dad had reneged on a promised visit to a skate park. When his dad had yelled at him for snaffling the last shortbread cookie. When his dad had given him a cuff over the ear after he accidentally scratched a used car with a dirty sponge while washing it.

He’d hated lying to his mum but he’d seen how worn out she’d looked, as if the slightest thing would drive her away, and that was why he ultimately held his tongue and bottled up his unhappiness: for fear she would leave and he’d be left alone withhim.

‘How was the awards night?’

‘Fine.’ His snapped response sounded anything but.

‘You look serious.’ She reached up and smoothed the frown line between his brows. ‘Did something happen between you and Jayda? She’s lovely, by the way—’

‘Let’s go talk to Dad,’ he said, pushing open the door and waiting until she entered before following.

George’s eyes lit up. ‘My two favourite people.’

Brock snorted, the sound not lost on either of his parents as their gazes fixed on him.

‘What’s wrong, Son, did something happen—?’

‘Cut the crap, Dad. You’ve never been interested in anything I do, so please don’t patronise me by showing concern now.’

‘Brock.’ His mum whacked him on the arm as if he were a five-year-old needing admonishment for being rude.

Some of the light in George’s eyes faded. ‘You’ve obviously got some bug biting your ass, so let’s hear it.’

Hating what he had to do, Brock backed away to the farthest corner opposite his dad’s bed and waited until his mum had perched on the bed before speaking.

---