Page 134 of Wild Eyes
I offer her a muted smile and hustle past, but her words bring me to a screeching halt.
“I love him, you know.”
I turn, shoulders tense, arms wrapped tightly around the bag of seed. “Oh-kay.” I enunciate the word carefully.
Bree sighs, and when I chance a look at her face, I see no trace of venom, just a brow crinkled by concern.
“I know I must be the villain in your story, but I’m not trying to be. I just love him. I’ve always loved him. And I had a shot. Until you.”
It’s tough to cover my wince. I know what it’s like to love West, and a part of me is sad for her. To love him and lose him would be…unthinkable.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you love him?” she presses, her pretty, dark eyes so earnest.
It feels like an incredibly personal question, but I answer anyway. “I do.”
Hurt flashes across her features, and her eyes fall for a moment before lifting back to mine. “You’re going to hurt him, and you probably won’t even mean to do it. His kids? His family? That’s sacred to him. He protects his family at all costs. And as sorry as I am for what’s happened to you this week, you have to know it’s not only going to blow back on you. It’s going to blow back onhim.”
My breathing stops as Bree digs a finger into a worry I hadn’t made sense of myself. I’ve spent forty-eight hours reeling. My anxiety spiral has only just gotten started.
“It’s going to blow back on those kids.”
Bam.A bullet right to the heart.Him and his kids.
I lick my lips, eyes flicking away. I don’t know what to say.
You’re rightis on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t want to give her that type of satisfaction.
“I’m not trying to be…” She runs a hand through her hair and shifts like she’s finally realized how fucking bizarre this conversation is. “Ha, you know. It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t like me either if I were you. I’m just looking out for them. And if you love him enough to let him go, I could still make him happy. He could be happy.”
I gaze into her shrink-wrapped eyes. Yes, I should hate her, but mostly I hate how right she is. How she’s given a voice to one of my deepest fears.
And I especially hate that my chest is so tight that I can’t breathe in enough air to say something cutting or eloquent.
All I do is nod, pay for my birdseed, and walk out the front door.
Right into the waiting lenses of several paparazzi.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SKYLAR
After my run-inwith Bree and the paps, I don’t leave the property. In the town where I finally felt free to roam and make genuine connections, I feel trapped. I know on West’s property, I’m safe from the cameras. And I’m safe from the prying eyes of everyone in town.
And yet, I feel more vulnerable than I ever have.
Telling the kids there might be stories and pictures about me when they go back to school was a conversation I wish I could scrub from my brain. But West and I knew they needed to hear it from us first before they heard it at school.
It fucking sucked. Sugarcoating it and spinning it in a way that was palatable for a child. It was a long, harrowing conversation riddled with Emmy’s curious questions. I remember the expressions on their faces as they absorbed the news. Their innocent eyes. Their bright red cheeks.
Their hugs.
It was their hugs that made me bawl. In fact, I believe I may be defying science with how much I’ve cried. After years of not crying, it seems I’m now unable to turn the tears off.
I’m gutted, and I’m furious, and I’m terrible company.
The thought of facing anyone makes my skin crawl. And the worst part is knowing I’ll have to put on a happy face and strut around events and concerts like nothing happened. I’ll have to answer probing questions about the scandal.
