Page 158 of Hawthorne

My life—my family—was a complete lie, and I am still trying to come to terms with this new...identity.

“I know,” he whispers, leaning forward. His right hand moves towards my face, quickly caressing my cheek. “I can see in your eyes how much you are hurting. I am the one to blame, and I am so fucking sorry.”

At first, I freeze, tensing upon his touch. It’s so gentle and slow, covering my whole cheek. For a second, my eyes close, basking in the comfort of his caress, momentarily forgetting all of the pain.

But images of Eleanor perched on his arm flash behind my eyelids, and I can’t help but move away from his touch. As my lips tremble, I fiercely try to keep the tears at bay.

“Don’t cry, love. No one deserves your tears.”

“Why–” I sob. “Why do youallhurt me? Am I that worthless?”

“Worthless?” He tilts my chin up. “You’re the fuckingqueen.”

“Like it fucking matters.” I laugh sarcastically through the tears. “I wasn’t enough when it mattered the most. You think it mattersnow?”

“It was not because you weren’t enough for me,” he admits. “It was the only way to protect you. Let me make things right...Let me show you I can make right by you.”

I want that, too. To believe that those aren’t just desperate, empty words, that he can magically prove he will never hurt me again. But I can’t trust that it won’t happen again.

Deep down, I still want to believe that loving someone is enough. But it isn’t.

I love you,I want to say.

But no words leave my mouth. It’s as if my heart has thrown away the key. Because it knows I won’t bear the pain of a second heartbreak.

With that resolve, I shake my head before leaning back in my chair, bringing some needed distance between us.

“I can’t,” I answer, determined.

“Love,” he pleads.

“When they discharge you, you are to stay in the palace and receive the best care until you have fully recovered.” I ignore him. “I also promise to quickly find who is responsible for this and punish them accordingly. Your sacrifice won’t be in vain.”

I stand and slowly get closer to the door when he calls me, “Camilla!”

His eyes beg me to go back, to get closer again, but I can’t. If I do, I will give in.

My voice is as shaky as my legs. “Your family must be waiting to see you. I’ll get out of your way.”

“Camilla, look at me.”

“I will forever be grateful that you saved my life,” I admit. “I can work on some kind of compensation as an official thank you. All you need to do is tell me what it is.”

“I want you,” he begs. “I want a second chance.”

The pain in his voice matches the gaping hole in my chest, and my vision blurs as waves of tears fill my eyes.I can’t.

With a shake of my head, I answer with finality, “Anything but that.”

48

Vincent Hawthorne

By now, hell surely has a spot reserved for me because there is no way I can take my brother for a second longer.

“How are you feeling?”

My only answer is a nod and a grunt. Never mind his voice being annoying, he’s irking me just for breathing in the same room I am.

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