Page 112 of When the Storm Breaks
How could she even compare them? “That’s different. She’s been my best friend since I was ten. And she’s the mother of my child.”
“I’ve known Dean since I was seven years old. He’s thefatherof my child. And he’s my brother’s best friend. So how is this any different to what you have with Lila?”
“I was never Lila’s boyfriend. And I never abused her… not mentally or physically or emotionally.That’show it’s different. Worlds apart.” I strode away, leaving her behind.
“Brody,” she called after me. “You think I don’t know you’re in love with her?”
I stopped in my tracks. “I’m not in love with her.”
“But you were. When did that change?”
“When I met you.”
Without turning back to look at her or see the impact of my words, I strode out of the barn, across my backyard and into my house.
Fuck love. I rubbed my hand over my chest to ease the ache. I would never be enough. She’d made that clear when she agreed to record a song with Dean. I didn’t have to meet Dean to understand what he was doing to her. He was trying to win her back, using every weapon in his arsenal to draw her in. Today it was one song. In three months, it was a world tour. They’d be seeing each other every day. In each other’s space.
And where would that leave me? I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the kitchen and carried them into the living room then sank down on the sofa. Pouring myself a glass of whiskey, I flipped through the channels. I stopped at a documentary about African elephants being hunted for their ivory. It fucking killed me that people were so corrupt and greedy, caring more about money than the lives of these majestic animals. Buster rested his head in my lap, and I stroked his thick fur.
About twenty minutes into the show, I was on my second glass of whiskey when Shiloh joined me. I lifted the glass to my lips and took a swig, not even turning my head to look at her. She took off her boots and tucked her legs underneath her in the corner of the sofa. I could feel her eyes on me, not on the TV. I had four days with her, and this wasn’t how I wanted it to go. But you can’t always get what you want. We sat in silence as I drank my whiskey and watched the show all while she watched my face.
“Will you come with me on tour? If you do, you’ll see there’s nothing between me and Dean.”
My jaw clenched. “Can’t.”
She sighed loudly. “I know. But if there was a way—”
I turned up the volume, effectively drowning out her voice. She moved next to me, grabbed the remote from my hand, and muted the volume. “Brody. Talk to me.”
“I’ve got nothing left to say. Why don’t you read my fucking mind?”
She took the glass out of my hand and helped herself to my whiskey. What next? Just cut off my balls while you’re at it. I reached for the bottle. I didn’t need a glass.
“I’ve missed you so much. I dream about you. I’ve been counting down the days until I could see you again. I don’t want to lose you, Brody. It would break my heart.”
I huffed out a laugh then took a swig of whiskey from the bottle like the classy bastard I was. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you agreed to sing a duet with the douche. Because as far as I’m concerned, it’s the same as cheating on me. Probably worse. Because that music… it will always be out there. It will live longer than you and me. A constant reminder that you don’t give a shit about my feelings. It’s all about the money. When will it ever be enough?”
“It’s not all about the money. I don’t care about the money.”
“Let me ask you something. If you were me, how would you feel?”
She took a few seconds to think about her answer. “Jealous. Angry. Hurt. Worried.”
“Well, there you go. So no, I don’t have a fucking thing to say to you right now.” There was only one thing that could fix this. She had to tell him she wasn’t going to do it, that it was out of the fucking question. And even then, it would be more like a Band-Aid on a gaping wound.
The words had to come from her, it had to be what she wanted, not because I was forcing her to choose. But she didn’t say a goddamn word.
A few minutes later, the front door opened, and Ridge appeared in the living room in a hoodie and jeans, a backward baseball cap on his head. He read the tension in the air and raised his brows at me, but it didn’t stop him from pulling Shiloh off the sofa into a big hug.
I left them together and strode out of the room without saying a word. Was I being unreasonable? Fuck if I know. This was my first real relationship, and I didn’t have a clue how to navigate this uncharted territory.
All I knew was that what she’d done went against my moral code. Where was the loyalty? Shouldn’t she have put me first? Instead, she’d gone behind my back and made a deal with the devil.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Shiloh
“What happened?”Ridge asked.
