Page 12 of Forbidden Desires

"Hi, sweetheart. How was your evening?" Monte asks me.

Instead of answering him, I focus on what I came here to tell them.

"The wedding was wonderful, wasn't it? Ethan and Cole looked so perfect, and I was so inspired by them starting their new chapter, that I decided to start mine a little earlier." The more I talk, the steadier my voice grows. "I decided to drive up to Tacoma instead of flying. That way I'll have my car from the start, and you three can just fly up for visits, instead of having to drive up in my car."

Lorcan puts his cup down on the counter and turns to me. "But that means you won't make it in time—" I can see when the realization hits him. "You're leaving today."

I nod. "I'm leaving now."

Annie's face falls. "But I had stuff planned! We had a spa date tomorrow!" Her lower lip falls into a pout before she narrows her eyes at me. "Is it because?—"

I interrupt her before she can say anything about Pete and Dexter, especially in front of my parents.

"It's because Ineedto go. Ineedto do this. For myself. You understand, don't you?"

Her expression softens before she puts her cup down and jumps off her stool and rushes to me. "Of course I do, Suzie. But I'm going to miss you! You've been my shadow for almost two years now." She wraps her arms around me and I return her hug, digging my face into her thick purple hair, and inhaling her scent.

"Will you have breakfast first?" Monte asks, his tone careful, but I can see the sadness in his eyes.

Shaking my head, I look between my two favorite men as I take a step back from Annie. "It's time for me to leave the nest."

By the time all the goodbyes are said, and my bags are packed in the car, the sun is high in the sky. With one last glance in my rearview mirror, my heart lifts a bit at what I see there. Annie, my best friend in the whole wide world, wrapped in the embrace of my dads.

If she can find her happily ever after, maybe there is still hope for me.

Before I turn onto the road, my phone buzzes with a notification. This time it's a message. From an unknown number.

Please don't do this, Suzie. We can talk. Figure things out. Don't shut us out.

Pete. It has to be. I close my eyes against the wave of emotion threatening to break over me. Why does he have to make this harder than it already is?

I press delete without responding. With a shaky breath I put the car into drive.

Time to go.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dexter

A faint creak pulls me from sleep, the kind of sound you don't notice unless the silence is too heavy. My eyes flutter open, the blurry edges of the room sharpening as I adjust to the dim light spilling in through the curtains. The bed feels colder than it should, the side where Suzie and Pete had been curled up now empty.

I reach out, my hand grazing over the rumpled sheets, their warmth long gone. A hollow ache settles in my chest as I sit up, the morning light cutting weakly through the thick grey clouds outside. The weather seems to mock the knot twisting in my gut, the heavy sky pressing down like a weight I can't shrug off.

The door to our room is slightly open, and I know before even checking the rest of the house, that Suzie is gone. The emptiness feels louder than it should, the echoes of her absence pressing into me like a physical being.

It makes no sense. I've only just met the woman, but the way Pete's spoken about her has made it something more. Somethingreal.

I make my way to the living room, where I find Pete sitting on the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. His broad shoulders, usually a source of strength, are hunched, his breaths shallow and uneven.

I hate seeing him like this. Pete's always been the unshakable one—the man who stood firm when my world felt like it was crumbling around me. But right now, he looks like he's barely holding it together, and it twists something deep inside me.

I clear my throat, trying to loosen the tightness in my chest. My voice comes out rough, scraping against the quiet. "Do you think she's alright?"

Pete's head snaps up, and the sight of his face hits me like a punch to the gut. His eyes are red-rimmed, his face pale and drawn, every inch of him radiating guilt and pain.

He lets out a sound, low and broken, that barely resembles his usual voice. "I don't know, Dex. She didn’t answer when I phoned. I keep replaying it in my head, trying to figure out what we did wrong—how we made her feel like she had to leave."

The rawness of his words cuts deep, each one twisting the knife of my own guilt.

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