Page 28 of Forbidden Love

“Yes.” He knew he had her now.

“Fine.” Deb said, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

“Good.” Brock smiled. “Breathe, Deb. It’s just lunch. We’ll work up to dinner.”

With a wink, he turned and strolled out of the kitchen, grinning to himself. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing—but it felt right. He liked her. Maybe more than he was ready to admit.

At the door, Clare stood waiting, a box of brownies in her hands. He took it with a nod.

“Thanks.”

“Hurt her,” Clare said sweetly, patting his arm as he passed, “and Linda will look like an angel compared to what I’ll do to you.”

Brock chuckled, watching Clare disappear into the kitchen. It looked like Deb had more people in her corner than she realized. It was time she started realizing it too.

CHAPTER 13

Deb sat up in bed, staring at her phone as she re-read Emily’s message for what had to be the tenth time.

Hunter’s beside himself over the baby,it read.He’s going to help me at the Feed Mill today, so no need for you to come in. Take the day. Love you!

With a heavy sigh, Deb let the phone drop onto the bed beside her. She leaned back on her hands, her eyes drifting around the quiet, still room. It felt too still—like the silence had weight. She was so happy for her sister, and yet, as she sat alone in her big house, she was lonely.

There was a time when she truly believed she had someone...someone who saw her, chose her, loved her. But that illusion had been nothing more than a beautifully crafted lie. It hadn’t just nearly destroyed her. Who was she kidding? Ithaddestroyed her.

No one, not even her sister, had known about him. She’d kept the relationship hidden, tucked away like some dark, precious secret because he had asked her to.Wanted her all to himself,he’d said. At the time, it had sounded romantic. Knowing what she knew now, it just sounded manipulative. Controlling. Cruel.

God, she had been such a fool.

The shame of it, the betrayal, had festered inside her, twisting into something sharp and bitter. Instead of facing the truth, she’d buried it deep and let it turn to anger. And that anger? She’d lashed out with it. At friends. At family. At anyone who seemed happy or whole because it reminded her of what she’d never really had in the first place.

She had become an expert at pretending she was fine while resenting everyone who actually was. He had ruined her, and she had let him.

Swiping a lone tear that escaped, she cursed. She was exhausted—bone-deep tired—and so damn lonely it physically hurt. The kind of ache that settled into her chest and refused to let go. Her entire night had been spent tossing and turning with a fair amount of muttered cursing.

Her mind kept circling back to the strange, unexpected conversation with Brock last night. Over and over, it replayed in fragments—his words, his tone, the intensity in his eyes. But it wasn’t just what he said that had shaken her.

It was the way he looked at her.

Like he saw something in her that she wasn’t sure existed anymore, something she'd long since buried beneath disappointment, fear, and carefully constructed walls. That look had stirred something inside her she hadn’t felt in a long time.

It left her confused. Unsteady. Vulnerable.

And then he’d asked her to have dinner with him. Just a simple question, but it hit her like a punch to the chest. She froze. Not because she didn’t want to say yes. But because some part of her did. And that terrified her even more.

As if he could sense the silent war raging inside her, Brock had backed off just enough—shifting from a one-on-one dinner to a more casual lunch with his sister and Ben included. It was a smart move, and she hated that it worked.

She agreed, but only because he promised to stop asking Hunter questions about her. That had been her line in the sand.

Because the truth was, the idea of Brock digging into her past—especially through Hunter—made her stomach twist. She didn’t want anyone, least of all a man like Brock, poking around in pieces of her she wasn’t ready to share. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Her relationship with Hunter wasn’t exactly strained, but it wasn’t close either. There was too much unsaid between them. Too much damage she’d caused. She’d pushed both him and Emily away when they hadn’t deserved it, using her pain like armor and her anger like a weapon. And even though they never threw it back in her face, the guilt still sat heavily on her chest. So, if anyone was going to tell her story, it was going to be her.

With a heavy sigh, Deb slowly pushed the covers aside and climbed out of bed, her body aching with exhaustion. She padded toward the shower, but her gaze paused, drifting over the familiar walls of the old house—hers and Emily’s childhood home.

Every creak in the floorboards, every chip in the paint, held a memory. Some good. Some she’d rather forget. Maybe it was time to let it go.

The thought came quietly, but it had been lingering for a while now. Maybe she should just sell the place. Walk away. Move somewhere new—somewhere quiet. A small town where no one knew her name, her past, or the mistakes she carried like shadows. A fresh start. A clean slate.

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