“I had a problem, baby,” I rasp. “It fucking tore me apart to walk away that day.”
Raindrops in her hair. Joy in her laughter.
Then…the wounded look on her face.
The empty house.
My emptylife.
“I had to. You know why. You lived it. And it kills me that it doesn’t matter.” I touch her cheek. “That despite me leaving, despite me giving them what they asked for, you still went through what you went through. I wish I’d done something different,anythingdifferent. I wish I hadn’t walked away, wish I could go back and change it.”
“Brooks,” she says quietly, her tone?—
Fuck, I can’t take that cool disappointment in her tone.
“But I can’t, baby. I know I can’t make it right. I know I can’t do enough for you to forgive me, I get that. I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m just asking”—my eyes burn again and I clear my throat, push on—“no, I’mbeggingfor you to let me find a way to get you safe. For real this time. Then if you want to go, I’ll let you go. I promise.”
Those light blue eyes are unreadable as they hold mine for long, long moments.
“Okay,” she eventually murmurs.
Relief ripples through me and I open my mouth to reply?—
Right as there’s a knock on the wooden panel behind me.
TWENTY
BRIAR
“Step back, please,”I hear even as I’m registering the knock.
Fear coils.
“What if?—?”
Pascal glances at Brooks, who steps forward, wraps his arm around my shoulders, and draws me back.
“What if it’s them?” I whisper.
“It’s not.”
I frown. “How do you?—?”
“Because my team would have called,” Pascal says, his gaze holding mine and there’s something about the cool confidence, the utter assurance in the statement that has my pulse slowing down, calm surrounding me. “But it never hurts to be careful, right?”
I nod.
That makes sense.
His eyes go to Brooks again, and a moment later, I find myself tucked around the corner, a big, masculine body between me and the front door.
I hear the lock disengage with a click, feel the slight rush of air as the door opens, and?—
“Pascal.”
The female voice is familiar, but I can’t place it. Still, I can’t miss that Brooks immediately relaxes and steps forward, leaving me alone as a group—yes, agroup—of people walk into the living room.
A tall, broad older man with salt and pepper in his beard and hair, a curvy brunette trailing behind him, a shy smile on her face. Behind them are Jace and the woman who must be his wife, Marie. She’s dressed in wide, flowing pants and a button-down, but it’s her deep green eyes that capture my focus.
