Page 33 of Nevermore (A Cruel Love #1)
THIRTY-ONE
REIGN
He froze.
Mama’s inconsolable. As I shut the suite door behind me, I’m overcome with the feeling of disappointment about how her special day went.
All she wanted was a beautiful ceremony and a memory she could create with her new family.
After everything we’ve been through in life, she’s earned the world, and she didn’t deserve to be embarrassed like this.
And then there’s me.
I enter the men’s suite with slumped shoulders and a depleted ego.
What started out as a great day turned into something I never expected, but should have.
I’ve felt my fair share of being left out since moving to Crescent Hills but nothing compared to today.
Today was a humiliation I’ve never experienced, not even when I was thrown into the pool at that ridiculously bougie party.
The song that played when Mama and I walked down the aisle was ridiculous.
I’m not even a cowboy for fuck’s sake and the musical selection has given me an inkling of who did this.
It wasn’t Santiago—I can say that much—but this smells like his shitty friend who’s been hellbent on making my life miserable.
And the clothes. I thought… I don’t know.
I thought I looked nice today. Santiago had ordered me a suit that showcased that just maybe I could belong in this world—belong with him—but this outfit has been a symbol of what I really am.
An outsider, a loner, someone unworthy. I came out in front of the elite and the rich in server’s clothes.
I wasn’t even smart enough to realize that it wasn’t right.
I’ve been put in my place.
I take a long look in the mirror. What I see isn’t who I am.
The defeated expression I hold, the red-rimmed eyes from tears I’ve tried to leave unshed, and the very energy I exude isn’t me.
I was fucking happy with my life before this.
Maybe it was dirt poor, maybe it wasn’t the best, but it was right.
This isn’t right.
Angrily, I begin to strip. Those same tears I’ve held back pour down my face in thick and desperate waves.
I sniffle as I yank off my tie, growling when I struggle, and nearly choking myself.
I spent the better part of yesterday learning how to do this, just so Santiago would be proud of me.
The damn stuffy shirt is next, along with the too loose pants, and the dumb thing I wrapped around my waist. I thought it was a last minute addition for some character.
When I’m in nothing but my underwear, I still don’t recognize myself.
I hear the laughter of the crowd. I see Kingston’s self-satisfied smirk.
I experience all over again the sight of Santiago frozen .
Realistically, what was he supposed to do? March up to Kingston and punch him square in the jaw for humiliating me? Come to my rescue and shield me from what happened? Be the hero I thought he was all along?
But he’s no hero. He’s no god. He’s just… human.
Why is the thought so disappointingly cruel?
The door opens and I avert my gaze when Santiago walks in. His footsteps are hurried as he comes up behind me, locking me in his embrace as he bands his strong arms around my waist.
He buries his face in the back of my neck and I feel his ragged angry breaths against my skin. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
I gulp. I appreciate the sentiment but the time for action came and went. When he could do something, he didn’t. It exposed something I don’t think either of us realized.
That love isn’t enough.
“It’s okay,” I lie, wiping my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. “It was just a joke.”
“It was deplorable,” he growls as he tightens his hold on me. “What kind of pathetic fuck would do something like that?”
I chuckle humorlessly. “Someone who’s obviously too bored. He’s your friend. Don’t you know this about him by now?”
“ Querido .” He spins me and cradles my face in his hands. His eyes are hard but also open. So vulnerable, beautiful, but it doesn’t hit the way it used to. All I feel when I see it is… numb.
“It really is okay,” I say before he can continue. I place my forehead on his and try to smile through the pain. I don’t think I can hear his apology. I don’t think…
I don’t think I care.
“How are you?” he asks, worry coating his downturned lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He studies my face and curses. “You’ve been crying.”
“I’m a crier. Cried at the end of the Rachel McAdams’ movie. What do you expect?” I joke. I shrug myself out of his hold and walk towards the closet to retrieve my clothes. “Mama wants to go home. I’m gonna get dressed and take her.”
“Wait,” he pleads, snagging my elbow and pulling me back. “ Querido , I don’t know what to say…”
Which is odd because he normally does. Santiago always knows what to say. He’s so smart and so put together. He’s never at a loss for words.
It’s telling.
So was his hesitation.
“Santi,” I breathe as I shake my head. “Please, drop it. Yeah, it was shitty, but I’m fine. At this point, I just wanna take my mama home. Will you let me do that?”
Once again, he hesitates, and I can’t find it in me to appreciate this one. He wants to watch out for me, he worries for me, he wants to make it okay. But it’s not. Nothing about this was okay.
I don’t think anything will be okay again.
Eventually, he nods. He doesn’t let me go yet, however, and pulls me in to drop a kiss on my forehead. He rests his lips there, his chest heaving for some reason, and whispers against my skin, “I love you, Reign. When you’re ready to talk about this, I’m here.”
Because I can’t help it, because Santiago has always held me captive, because I love him, I kiss him.
I kiss him to try and erase what happened today.
I kiss him to show him my love. But as I slide my lips against his, and as he tries to breathe life back into me, it hits.
It hits me hard, it wracks my core, and it nearly makes me cry again.
He’s here but he’s not.
He’s the love of my life but he can’t be.
It’s not the same.
As I take a step back and turn to get dressed, he lingers. He watches me like a hawk and I feel his eyes burning the back of my neck. When I’m done, he comes and kisses me, but my mind won’t shut up. It’s whirring and coiling and suffering as I kiss him again and… it’s still not the same.
Nothing will ever be the same again.