Page 130 of Bred

“I don’tneedto do anything, Lucas. You lost the right to tell me what to do when you left me waiting for you on my prom night.”

His expression pained, he says, “I didn’t mean for that to happen, baby. I swear to you. I wanted to be there, but I couldn’t.”

I give up trying to push him away. He’s not going to let me go until I hear him out.

“Why?”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “That job I was on? Everything went to shit.”

I still. He said he had to work that night, now I know it wasn’t the legitimate kind.

“What happened?” I ask him even though I already have an idea, but I need to hear him say it.

A muscle jumps in his jaw and his eyes go dark. Whatever happened wasn’t good.

“I can’t tell you everything. I told you before that it’s better if you don’t know and that still stands. But what I can tell you was that I was arrested.”

He doesn’t explain further but he doesn’t have to.

He really didn’t want to leave me. He still loved me.

Feeling the change in me, his touch turns tender. His thumb gently brushes my tear away before it can make a trail.

“I thought about you every day.”

“I went to your house, Lucas,” I tell him angrily. “I spoke to your brother. He made it seem like you didn’t love me anymore. I didn’t believe him, but then when I didn’t hear from you…” I shake my head. “Why didn’t you contact me?” I choke.

“I told my brother not to tell you. I didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t know how long I would be locked up so I told him to do whatever he needed to do to make you hate me.”

“I would have waited for you!”

“I didn’t know how long I’d be locked up, and I didn’t want you to waste your life waiting for me,” he says vehemently. “You deserve better than me, Brinley. But I’m a selfish bastard because even though I know this, I can’t let you go. You’re mine, always have and always will be.”

“You don’t know what you leaving did to me.” The devastation in my tone makes it clear to him that it didn’t just stem from him abandoning me.

“Come home with me.”

I shouldn’t even consider it.

I really, really shouldn’t. If not for the fact that he left me without a word of warning, leaving me to deal with the most traumatic experience of my life, then at the very least for my self-respect.

It doesn’t matter that he explained himself years later. He still made the decision to break us—even if it was on some misguided notion of doing what’s best for me.

So, what does it say about me if I take him back into my arms after all this time?

Maybe that you haven’t had a good ride since he left?

Or that even after all this time, I still dream about him. I remember every touch, every kiss, how he sounds when he comes. How he feels inside me…

Shit.

Apparently, my self-respect does not exist.

“Okay.”

CHAPTER THREE

BRINLEY