Page 92 of The Lighthouse Inn (Shattered Cove 4)

“Let me explain? Please?” she begged, and something cracked inside him.

He spun around, grabbing her shoulders. Her eyes widened, fear flashing as she winced.

“Why? So you can tell me more of your goddamned lies? So you can manipulate me some more?”

She shook her head, fat tears glistening over her face. Her expression hardened. “You can’t handle my truths! No one can. You wanna know why I didn’t tell you when you first got here? You were a stranger. I had to make sure my daughter would be safe. I understand better than anyone that someone who is supposed to be a father can hurt you in ways no human would want to imagine. So no, I didn’t think just because I thought you were her father, you had a right to know.”

The only reason she started any of this was because she thought I was Zoey’s dad. So once again, I’m chosen second. She’d wanted something from him, just like everyone else in his life had. He shook with rage, his skin burning. His hands gripped her harder, pinning her against the wall. He didn’t want to hear this. He couldn’t believe a word out of her mouth. He’d seen women use their own children to manipulate men before.

“You have no idea what it’s like to find out you’re pregnant from a stranger with no way to contact him. To raise a child, a human solely dependent on you to meet all her needs. To put a roof over her head, and food in her belly, and love her when all you want to do is lie down and never get back up again.” Jasmine’s gaze didn’t waver, though her body shook.

“Enough.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to see the man you thought was her father walk into your inn and not remember you. To wonder if you should tell him, if he’s safe? If he’s trying to take the one person I love most in this world. My job is to protect Zoey first and foremost. That’s why I didn’t tell you right away. I tried . . . that night.”

The night he’d come to her room. He should have listened, rather than let his dick do the thinking.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to confess. Before things got so . . . tangled.”

“I would never have slept with you if I’d known you fucked my brother first,” he snapped.

Her face paled, pain lashing across her expression. Her head dipped, gaze pointed at the floor. “Did you mean any of it? Was this all just to buy the inn?”

It was too fucking real. But the truth would leave him vulnerable. And he’d had enough heartache to last him a lifetime. “How does it feel to have secrets kept from you?”

She shook her head. “That’s not . . . I trusted you.” She tipped her chin up. Her eyes were red from crying. Through the pain and the betrayal, she was still so tragically beautiful—stealing his breath, making his own body war against itself. The siren, dragging him down to the deepest darkest depths of the ocean, sending him to his death. He swallowed the feelings that threatened to overflow, locking them away tight as he’d been trained to do all his life, until he felt nothing but icy aloofness and hot rage. “It’s obviously not the first terrible mistake you’ve made.”

She blinked, a blank mask falling into place. “Let me go.”

He stepped back, hands dropping to his sides. His heart lurched, stomach knotting. Bile rose. What have I become?

She ran out of the room, tugging at whatever invisible force tethered them together. It cinched tighter with every footfall, until it snapped.

He sucked in a staggered breath, running his hands over his face. Heavy footsteps climbed higher on the stairs.

Oliver walked in, crossing his arms. “You look like shit.”

Atlas closed his eyes, trying to block his brother out. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Come on, At. She’s a slut. Don’t waste—”

Oliver didn’t get to finish his sentence. Atlas’s fist met his brother’s cheek with all his pent-up rage behind the punch. Oliver crashed to the floor, holding his hands out.

“What the fuck! Asshole. This is what I get for coming to check on you?” Oliver held his face.

“Why are you even here?” Atlas demanded.

“You ignored my calls. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know you wanted that position so badly. I figured you’d need my support.”

Atlas shook his head. “You have a fucking kid with her.”

“This happened before Christina got pregnant.”

“With Jasmine, you fucking idiot,” Atlas snapped.

Oliver’s face paled. “No—I can’t.” He shook his head vehemently. “I’ll lose the shares in the company. And my position. Grandfather said—”

“Well, I guess you should have kept it in your pants,” Atlas interrupted. Blood boiled at the thought of his brother’s hands on Jasmine.

Four years ago, I was in a really bad place. I’d use sex as a way to make myself feel better for a moment and . . . punish myself at the same time. I met a man in a bar and we hooked up in the bathroom.

Was that all he was to her too? What did she think she was doing? Making him fall in love with her so he’d marry her and then she’d live like a queen? Although the back child support from Oliver would have her set up for life. No. Jasmine isn’t like that. At least that was what he’d thought. But then again, she’d kept a huge secret from him the whole fucking time—thinking he was Zoey’s father. He wasn’t Oliver. He never would be. And now she knew the truth, chances were she wouldn’t want him but the real deal.

He threw everything else in his bag and zipped it up. He needed to get out of here, away from everyone. He walked out the door, leaving behind all he’d come to fall in love with in less than two weeks. This place was everything he hated now. Jasmine was the one person untainted by his life in New York City and his family. And it turned out, even that was just as much a fantasy as mermaids were.

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