Page 76 of From the Wreckage
I avoid looking at her, afraid of what I’ll see. The disgust and revulsion that are surely there.
The lump in my throat swells until I can barely breathe. “I deserved it. Brought every bit of it on myself. Even though I went to rehab and got clean… the damage was already done.”
I finally dare to look at Bri. Her eyes glisten, devastation etched across her face, but underneath it is something fierce. She shakes her head, her hands trembling as they cup my face. “No. That’s not you. You’re not that man anymore.”
Her fingers tighten on my jaw, like she’s afraid I’ll pull away. Her hazel eyes blaze, cutting through the shame that’s been strangling me for years.
“You listen to me, Everett,” she says, her voice fierce and trembling. “Yes, you made mistakes. Yes, you carry scars. But that doesn’t erase who you arenow.You stopped Joey from hurting me. You showed up when no one else would. You make me feel safe—seen—in a way no one ever has. That’s not the man you just described.”
My chest caves. “Bri…”
She shakes her head, tears slipping free, her thumb brushing over my stubble. “You keep saying you’ll ruin me, but don’t you get it? You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel whole. You’re the only one who stayed when I needed someone. You say you have no one, but you have me. And I’m not leaving.”
Her words shatter something in me. My lungs seize, my throat burns, and I can’t look away from her. Because she means it. For the first time in years, someone actually means it.
“Angel,” I rasp, my voice breaking. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Her mouth curves, soft but unshakable. “Yes, I do.” She leans closer, pressing her forehead to mine, her voice steady despitethe tears streaking her cheeks. “You survived the wreckage. You’re still here. And maybe you think you’re ruined, but to me? You’re everything.”
Her words hollow me out and fill me in the same breath. I’ve spent months burying myself under the wreckage of scars, guilt, and shame, but she looks at me like I’m more than what I destroyed.
My throat works as I force out, “Bri… you can’t mean that.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. If anything, it burns hotter and fiercer. Unwavering.
“I mean every word.”
The conviction in her voice slams into me harder than any hit I ever took on the field. My chest tightens, but for the first time in years, it’s not from guilt. It’s from something else. Something dangerous. Something I don’t know if I deserve—hope.
I let out a ragged breath, my forehead dropping to hers. “Angel… You’re either the bravest woman I’ve ever met, or you’re out of your damn mind.”
Her lips tilt into the faintest smile, trembling but certain. “Maybe both. But either way… I’m not going anywhere.”
Something in me breaks wide open. The shadows don’t vanish, but for once, they’re not all I see. I see her. Her tears. Her strength. Her stubborn belief in me, even when I can’t find it for myself.
My hand slides up, cupping the back of her head, tangling in her hair. I tilt her face and press my lips to hers—not with hunger, not with desperation, but with something raw. A kiss that feels like surrender. A vow carved into skin and breath.
She melts into me, her fingers curling into my shirt, holding me as if she feels the weight of what I’m giving her. What I’ve never given to anyone before.
When I finally pull back, her hazel eyes glisten, her lips parted. My voice is rough, but steadier than I feel. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me, Brielle.”
Her lashes lower, her whisper brushing my mouth. “Maybe I do.”
And for the first time in months, I let myself believe she could be the one thing that pulls me from the wreckage.
CHAPTER 52
Brielle
I don’t wakewith the kind of lightness you’d expect after a kiss like that. Instead, my chest feels weighted, stretched between too many emotions that don’t fit inside me.
The sun spills through my window like it’s trying to burn away the shadows, but all I can see is Everett’s face on the lake. The haunted edges of his confession, the jagged map of scars beneath my fingertips, the taste of his mouth after he finally let me in.
He trusted me with the truth last night. Not just pieces of it, but the raw, ugly wreckage he’s been buried under. Most people would run from that kind of darkness. Part of me knows I should.
But I can’t.
Not after he showed me the broken pieces no one else has ever seen.
