Chapter
Nine
Bexar-Wolfe Lodge, Northern Virginia
She could not stay here and deal with his scorn day after day. Last night, she’d cried herself to sleep. Heaped condemnation on her stupid self for destroying the only man she’d ever wanted to talk about “forever” with. But that forever had become forever hated. Forever detested, reviled.
Granted, he had every right to feel that way but … she could not bear his complete rejection and face him day in and out. When his dog scratched at the door, she’d known better than to let the sweet beast in, but she’d wanted to apologize to Stone, explain everything. She’d never had that chance. And while it might not erase her guilt, it might …
Yeah, she had no idea. She just wanted to voice her side of it.
Yet, the minute she spotted Stone storming toward her room?—as if he’d known Grief was with her?—courage fled and fear took up residence. There was no apology she could offer that would give him back what had been stolen. She knew that. But if he just understood that she really hadn’t had a choice …
. . . . .
Baltimore, Maryland
Water rushed over her hair and face. She let it. Tried to wash away the filth. The shame. The stain on her heart. Curled in the corner of the shower, she hugged herself with one hand and shielded her head with other. Let the tears come. Reached up and turned the water to full hot. She hated herself, hated her life. Didn’t want to live.
But living kept Aston alive. Safe.
Emptiness. An existence that was just that??—existing. Making it through one day, one client appointment after another.
“Be grateful you have a roof over your head??—a very nice one??—and a luxury SUV. You have it good, Lizzy. Don’t ever forget that.”
Good. Strange how that word could have so many different meanings and levels.
But it never would apply to her or anything in her life.
Except … him.
But he would find out who she was. What she was. What she did. And the only truly good thing in her life would be gone.
So just let it go before it hurts too bad.
A song drifted through the steamy shower. She shouldered it out, but then it registered?—his ring tone.
Brighton lifted her head. Just let it go to voicemail. Dull that interest before the pain became too sharp, and she ruined him as they’d ruined her. When quiet reigned again, she choked off a sob, only then realizing how much she wanted to be a part of his honorable, normal life. To be loved. To know that yeah, he saw a pretty face, but he saw more. He saw her. Not the supermodel, nor escort. He’d never tried anything. Never slept with her. Hadn’t even kissed her.
Why hadn’t he kissed her?
The ringtone erupted again.
Brighton stood and cut off the water. Wrapped herself in a towel and snatched her phone. “Hello?”
“Lizzy, hey. It’s Stone.”
Tears came unbidden. His voice just set her world right. “Hi,” she said, her throat raw and soft.
“You okay?”
“I am now,” she admitted, then cleared her throat. “So, tonight?”
“Same time?”
“Same bat channel?” she said with a laugh, repeating their routine. She shouldn’t go. She should cut it off. Before they found out about him. Who was she kidding? They had to know. They knew everything about her.
“Looking forward to it. Manicotti?”
