Page 13 of Oathbreaker

“I’m sorry,” I say and that’s basically the only truth that’s come out of my mouth during this entire conversation.

“Baby,” West says, his voice a gentle rumble that I love.

It’s soothing. It’s soft. It’s kind. It makes me feel good?—

Usually.

Today it’s another slice of guilt.

Because I’m breaking our date to take care of Colt.

Because I’m lying to the man I was falling in love with, was planning on building a future with, was?—

Was.

Fuck.

I close my eyes, fighting back my tears as another lash of guilt slices through me—and then deeper when I hear him go on.

“Our date will hold,” he says. “The important thing right now is for you to get done what you need to get done so you can get some rest.”

More guilt.

Sweet baby Jesus, this guilt is going to slice me into a thousand pieces.

“Thanks, West.”

“Anytime, honey,” he murmurs. “Now, go kick some ass in that meeting of yours. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

Hear all about me lying to him about the shitshow I dealt with today running long?

Or hear all about the truth of what I’ve actually been doing over the last several hours—driving back over to Colt’s hotel room, packing up his stuff and helping him out to my car. Then, considering his wound was still oozing blood, stopping by an urgent care and getting a doctor to look at his stitches. They’d fixed him up and by the time I got him back into my car, he was pale, trembling, and barely upright.

My heart had ached for him, for the suffering he so clearly endured, for what was clearly the hell of the last five years, for all that he’d been through while we were here building our lives without him?—

“Briar?”

I blink and…more guilt.

Because even during a quick phone call to the man I’m supposed to be in love with, supposed to be taking the next step with…

I’m thinking about Colt.

It was bad enough when I was wrestling with what I’d lost, when I was trying to tamp down the promise of what we had, the yearning of what we could have had.

It’s worse knowing that I drove Colt home from the urgent care and installed him in my guest bedroom.

Worse still knowing that I need to figure out the best way to break the news of his reappearance from the dead to my brothers…

To Frankie.

“Honey?”

West’s tone is firmer, worry creeping in along the edges.

“I really am sorry,” I whisper.

He sighs and I know that if he was here, he’d pull me into his chest, would wrap his strong arms around me. I’d smell the spicy male scent of him, feel the steady warmth of him, would be able to relax and know that I was safe and content and wanted.