Page 95 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

She squares her shoulders, chin jutting up in that defiant way she gets when she’s determined. It’s usually one of the things I love about her. But right now, it only makes the anger churn faster in my chest.

“No, I know exactly what you’re saying, Silas, and exactly what youdon’tsay. You never once made it clear what you feel for me. I told you I loved you, and you didn’t say a damn thing back! How the hell do you think that made me feel?”

“What does it matter?” I look away. “We were doomed since the beginning.”

“Why?! Because you want me to pick a side? I already picked a side and—"

“I know you’ve picked a side, Leah,” I say, my voice rising, frustration spilling like water over a dam. “I’ve been fighting your father because he’s been gunning for me—because he’s been feeding the world lies about me. I’m the one caught in this mess of his making. And somehow, I’m the one who’s been using you?”

“You think I haven’t been through hell, too?”

“I’m glad you’ve picked a side, Leah. Because I’ve picked a side, too.”

She removes her sunglasses and twists the engagement ring on her finger, her gaze flicking down to it for just a moment before meeting my eyes again. She’s wearing makeup around her eyes, making them look even darker, a storm brewing in their depths.

She’s been crying.

She lifts her hand, slowly, deliberately, and slides the engagement ring off her finger. The small, delicate band glints in the light as she holds it out to me, her hand trembling slightly.

“What are you doing?”

“If this is how it’s going to be,” she says, her voice breaking just a little, “then I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me. Who’s ready to believe the worst of me at the first opportunity. I don’t think you should, either.”

I stare at the ring, my chest tight, my heart pounding. But I force myself to take it from her, to hold it in my palm and feel the weight of it, the weight of everything we’re losing.

“Fine,” I say, my voice cold, yet my heart bursting with pain.

She looks at me for a long moment, her eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and anger, and I can see the tears she’s holding back, the pain she’s trying so hard to hide. But she says nothing. She just turns and walks away.

I stand there, watching her go, my heart heavy and aching, but I keep my face blank, my expression hard. I won’t let her see how much this is breaking me.

A few moments later, Caleb appears at the door, his face filled contorted with concern. “Dad . . . what happened? Leah was crying when she left.”

I look down at him, forcing a small, strained smile. “I’m sorry, Caleb.” It’s all I can manage. Just two simple words that don’t even begin to cover the mess I’m caught in.

“What’s wrong, Dad? Is everything okay?”

As Caleb watches me, his face twisted in confusion. I turn back to the city, letting the hot air wash over me. And I think of Leah, of everything we shared, and the way it all came crashing down because I trusted the wrong person.

Because I let Harvey Grayson tear us apart.

I’m sorry, Caleb, I think to myself, my heart heavy with regret. I’m sorry for trusting the one person who could break both our hearts. Because that’s what she’s done:

Broken our hearts.

Chapter thirty-three

Leah

I stare at theceiling from where I’m lying flat on my back in bed, feeling like I’m somewhere between a human and a shriveled slug. Heartbreak isn’t supposed to feel like this, is it? A raw, gnawing emptiness in the pit of my stomach that not even chocolate or Penny’s terrible pep talks can fill.

“Leah, babe, you can’t keep lying in bed like this. I’m starting to forget what the bottom half of your face looks like,” Penny says, pushing my bedroom door open with her hip, hands full of a steaming mug that smells vaguely like ginger.

The smell’s instantly nauseating. Nowadays, everything’s nauseating. I can’t explain it.

Her hair’s pulled back in a messy bun, golden curls spilling every which way, and she’s in her usual oversized band tee andsweatpants. She’s trying for cozy and encouraging, I can tell, but her brows are drawn together in worry.

I hate that I’m putting her in this position, but I’m too depressed to do anything about it.

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