Page 77 of Memories of Us

Oh hell no. No chivalry shit when he just brushed me off. “Fuck you,” I gritted out over my shoulder as I slid out of the seat and slammed the door.

“Rebeka,” he yelled back. “Stop.”

Bag in hand, I shut the tailgate and stormed toward the house. Brenton stepped in, blocking my path.

“Move.” I had to get in the house before the damn tears spilled over. No way could I give Brenton the satisfaction of watching me break. Because of him. Again.

“Not until you understand something.”

With a loud scoff, I shouldered past him only to be pinned against the truck. With his hands on my shoulders holding me to the hot metal, I shot him my best “fuck off” glare.

“What I meant was... you're perfect. I don't deserve your time, and I sure as hell don't deserve your love or forgiveness after what I've done to you. What I'm saying is... I don't—”

“Spit it out, Graves. I don't have all night.”

“It’s easier to believe someone loves me for my money than for being me,” he whispered. “I'm a broken man who has fucked up more times in this life than any person should be allowed. I’m a recovering addict, a fuckup when it comes to you. What kind of person would I be to allow you to—”

“Allow?” I snapped. “You don't allow me to do anything. If you haven't noticed—”

“Hell, woman, I'm saying if I could love anyone, it would be you. But I can't.”

“Yes you can,” I said, giving up on holding back the hot tears.

“My mom walked out on us. Dad fed me drugs and women as our bonding time. Most of the women I've been with only want me for my money and nothing else. When in the hell would I have learned how to love in all that? I'm a ruined man who is terrified every second I’m alive that my demons might catch up with me and I'll slip back down that dark hole of addiction. You deserve better than me, and I won't tie you to me and drag you down too.”

“You're a damn fool, Brenton.” The bag in my hand fell to the dust as I shoved both hands against his shoulders. “Do you think this is easy for me? You know my story, and yet here I am loving you. Loving the man who devastated me once. Devastated, Brenton. I don't know how to do this either, but I'd rather figure this love shit out with you than anyone else. No one else makes me feel like you. No one makes me love myself as much as you do.”

“You're wrong. You're better—”

“That ruined shit is a lame-ass excuse. You're scared. And you know what? I'm not going to do this to myself again. You were right about something, Brenton Graves. I do deserve better, but not for the reasons you think.” Reaching down, I snagged my bag and started toward the house. I paused but didn't turn to him when I said, “For the record, this isn't me walking away from the real Brenton. It's me giving up on the man you believe you are.”

A warm, strong hand gently wrapped around my wrist but fell away when I stepped toward the house.

Once inside, the sounds blaring on the TV didn't drown out the rumble of the truck driving off.

“Look at what the cat dragged in,” Daddy said from his leather recliner, not looking away from the late-night game show that was on. “Alone. Where's the prick Graves kid?”

“Don't start with me,” I gritted out, somehow able to keep new tears from flowing down my cheeks.

“You're a fool if you think this time will be any different. That family won't let him have anything to do with us. You learned that years ago. Stay away from him.” He cut his bloodshot eyes over to where I still stood by the door, bag in hand. “I don't want our name dragged through the mud again because of you. The first time was bad enough, being the father of the town whore. Don't want to add being the father of the town idiot to it.”

I averted my eyes from his glare to the empty beer cans littering the floor around the recliner. “Right, like I enjoyed being the daughter of the town drunk who killed his wife.”

“I didn't touch her,” he seethed. The can in his hand crushed in his grip, spraying beer on the wall.

“You didn't force the pills down her throat, but you drove her to it.”

“Me? No, that was you and your brother. You two took her from me, drove her damn crazy. Get the fuck out of my house,” he snarled. “I don't want someone like you living under my roof.”

I'd leave that second to put as much space between me and the life-sucking leech I called my father as I could, but I couldn't. I'd need a truck for that, and mine was now parked at the main house, the keys with the man I loathed one second and loved desperately the next. Too much pride kept me from asking for the keys, so instead I stomped through the living room and down the hall toward the bedrooms.

Bradley tried to grab my attention as I passed by his room, but I ignored it. Only seconds were left before the dam holding back a gush of tears broke. The door shook the room when I slammed it closed. The bag fell to the floor with a thud, and the mattress squeaked under my weight when I fell face-first onto the unmade bed.

Finally alone, I let the tears fall to my pillow with deep, loud, soul-cleansing sobs.

**

“BEKA?”

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