Page 168 of Ever With Me

He paid for his tab, then left the bar, feeling like the walls were going to cave in on him.

A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

Cormac had made a move on Madison?

Nausea burned a hole in his gut.

Was she doing this to punish him?

You deserve it. You should be punished. You don’t deserve her after what you did to her.

But what about Cormac? Why would Cormac do this? Sure, he hadn’t answered his friend’s calls or texts the last month, but surely, Cormac had known he just wasn’t ready to talk yet.

The weeks after returning to LA from Brandywood had been the closest to hell he had ever lived.

He had lost everything.

His heart had been completely shattered.

And in his attempt to protect the woman he loved, he’d taken a flamethrower to both their hearts.

Your fault.

Your fault.

Your fault.

Brooks whipped out his phone, gripping it tightly.

Madison.

He headed onto the sand, straight toward the water, the need to drown himself insomethingencapsulating him.

She’d moved on.

Already.

Maybe to injure him.

Maybe not.

But the townspeople had to know it was Cormac, not him. So why would they all lie?

Why tell the reporters he had come back?

Unless they wanted to protect Cormac. He was one of their own, and maybe they didn’t want to share the truth because the lie was easier to explain. Brooks and Cormac shared dark hair, a similar height and complexion.

But why the fuck was Cormac wearing my clothes?

Brooks couldn’t prove it was his clothes, of course, especially not from the blurry photos, but that baseball cap was identical to the one he’d left. And why would Cormac wear clothes that were like the ones Brooks wore?

He dialed his so-called friend.

It all felt like a sick, fucked-up prank.

The phone went straight to voicemail.

“It’s Brooks. Call me.” He hung up, seething.

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