Page 39 of When Hearts Awaken

That fake charm at the bar I fell hook, line, and sinker for, followed by pain. Lots of pain.

“Rich men like you just know how to take what’s not yours. Because you guys can get away with it. You’re all one dimensional. So how dare you lecture me on emotions!”

My pulse roars in my ears, my skin hot to the touch. I clap my hand over my lips, belatedly realizing how much I just spewed out—the lack of sleep from the recent resurgence of my nightmares must be getting to me.

And I took it out on the wrong man, who’s standing next to me and saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Guilt slashes through me, and I swallow.

It’s not right. “I-I’m so—”

“You’re talking in riddles again. If you have an accusation, say it. If you think I did something, call me out on it. Don’t pussyfoot around this shit. You had nothing on my uncle back then and now you have nothing on me.” Charles’s nostrils flare as he stares at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His lips twitch in fury—his entire body is vibrating with restrained anger.

Someone hushes us. I look around, finding everyone in the ten foot radius glaring at us, and I realize we are causing a scene.

Iam causing a scene.

I look at Charles again and something shifts in his gaze. He frowns, his eyes sharpening as they cascade over my face. Perhaps he sees the guilt or the regret. Perhaps he’s noticing my dark eye circles. But something registers in those arresting eyes of his, and now they’re reflecting a new emotion.

Pity.

The last emotion I want from anyone, least of all…him.

He pulls me into a darkened corner farther away from my colleagues, and I swallow my gasp when I see Charles looming over me. He’s flushed, a muscle pulsing in his jaw.

“You don’t knowanythingabout me,” he rasps.

He leans down some more, obliterating the inches between us. The heat from his body singes me and I fight the urge to back away.

“You don’t know the first thing about men like me because you know what, Taylor? I bet you don’t even know yourself.” Those crystal blue eyes sear into me, like they can see through to my soul.

Applause rings through the audience, and I startle, my attention temporarily drawn to the closing drapes—the performance has ended. But there’s commotion—more commotion than usual.

People dash across the stage and I see Dev carrying a distressed Bethany toward Sir Ian. She’s clutching her foot as strained sobs tear from her lips.

Something is wrong, but I barely notice, because all I could think of was Charles’s accusations.

Charles straightens to his full height, his eyes darting toward the crowd gathered around Bethany and Sir Ian. He takes a few steps in their direction, his jaw clenching, but he stops himself.

Turning toward me, he says, “You go about lashing out at everyone—myself, my uncle, whoever you deem unworthy, even when you don’t have a shred of evidence the person you’re attacking with your words deserves them.”

My nostrils flare as a ragged breath slips out of my throat.

His eyes soften, the fury from earlier slowly receding into the background. He’s picking up his mask from the floor and putting it back on.

He murmurs, “I bet the person you want to hate is yourself. So before you accuse others of hiding their emotions, why don’t you hold up a mirror and take a good look and figure out why you’re lying to yourself.”

He spins around and stalks away.

The person you hate is yourself.

His words ring in my ears, a sucker punch to the gut, and I curl into myself, clutching my sweatshirt tightly as an ache sears into my chest.

Closing my eyes, I slide down to the floor, my head hanging between my knees as my breathing becomes shallow.

A sticky sense of shame seeps inside me, weighing me down.

Alexis is gone. Camden left. My dreams are tainted. My future is uncertain. In the last few weeks, my journey to recovery has regressed a few steps. And now I’m an angry shell of a person who’s trying to put on a brave face every day.

Aren’t you wearing a mask too, Tay?

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