He presses his lips together. Is he hiding a smile? Is he angry? I feel nothing from him through our bond, though I am not pushing hard.
“And you thought the best way for me to work through whatever complicated feelings I might have about you—feelings you had no idea about, by the way—was to keep me all to yourself instead of, say, letting me meet other people and form relationships and work it all out that way?”
“You met Jeremiah and Paxton.” Even to my ears, my tone is petulant.
“Hmm.”
“The Huntsman. Asher.”
“Oh, yeah. So many super approachable men. How did I ever cope?” His tone is dry, and this time, the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Grant…”
“You were a dick about it, Vlad,” Grant says, and I flinch, but he doesn’t let me go. Doesn’t let me retreat. “But I didn’t push, either. I figured you just saw me as a child and I didn’t know how to fix that. Neither of us was good at communicating, I guess.”
“You thought—I never—”
“I didn’t ask. Neither did you. It’s done.” He leans up and ghosts a kiss over my lips. “We’re here now. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?”
I lower my head to press my face against his throat. “Yes,” I murmur. “That is the most important.”
“Good. We can hash the rest out later. But for the record, I’m pretty sure I was more frustrated than angry. I’m happy for you to keep me close now.”
“I want you to have your friendships. They are good for you. I cannot be that selfish.”
Grant chuckles. He shifts so he can see my face again. “Fine. But I want you to have yours, too.” He sticks out his lower lip. “How am I supposed to go out and have fun when all I’m thinking about is how you’re wasting away at home without me?”
I huff, and he laughs again, and the next kiss we share is slow, a promise of what is yet to come.
“All right,” I say. “I will make some friends.”
Grant tugs on my hand, leading me over to the door. “Let’s start here, shall we?”
vii
fast, going too fast and I can barely see through the tears still falling, but I don’t care, Idon’t care.
How could he do that to me?Has beendoing it, clearly, for a while now, but I’m the one left broken, left having to pick up the pieces.
Fucker.Fuck him.God, how many times have Jordan or Rachel told me to think the relationship through and I just laughed them off because sure, we had our problems, but what couple doesn’t?
A bend appears in the road and I yank on the steering wheel, another hiccupping sob leaving me when the tyres screech on the tarmac. Fuck all of this. All of them. God, I bet some of our friends knew. I bet they’ve known for ages and they’ve all been taking me for a fool and—
I scream. Rough and angry, the sound tearing the inside of my throat, but it’s not enough, none of it is enough. My foot presses down on the accelerator until it’s flat to the floor. MaybeI’ll be pulled over. What-fucking-ever. I’m done. I’m so done. I can’t even think beyond the next minute, the next few seconds, because my life is fucking ruined now, over, just like that.
I take another corner too fast. My mind is screaming at me, torn between hurt and anger and fear, but apathy is rising and I fall willingly into its gentle embrace. I don’t want to die—it’s not that. I’m just… I’m done. Four years out the window just because he couldn’t keep it in his fucking trousers, except that’s not the truth either because if he’d been fucking some random nobody, it wouldn’t have hurt quite like this.
Empty fields spread out on either side of me, fences and the occasional tree marking the boundary of the road. No one else is out this late. Why would they be?
Why would hedo thisto me? Why did he want to hurt me? My heart hurts, pounding erratically against my ribs. Why didn’t he just tell me he wasn’t happy? Why didn’t he just break up with me? Why didn’t—
A figure looms out of the darkness. A deer? Only it’s
Chapter Twenty-Five
Grant
BythetimeVladand I make it up to the flat, they’ve got the bodyguard tied up in the kitchen, which gives me a chance to have a little mooch around the living room. It’s nice. Really nice. A little more boho than I ever would have imagined Rachel liking—I eye the bead curtain that separates the living room from the kitchen with some scepticism—but it’s cosy and warm. A real home.
