20. Elijah
“What happened to you that you’re so hurt? That you’re doing this?” Tears streak down Gemma’s beautiful face.
Fuck.
Her shoulders slump, the defeat palpable even through the haze of my own fucking self-pity.
“I’m done. Congratulations on your engagement. I wish you both the happiness you deserve.”
Happiness?
Without her in my life?
The room is a blur of colors and shadows as I stand there, watching her go, paralyzed. I can’t move even though every fiber of my being screams to stop her.
Gemma is the best damn thing that ever happened to me, and I let her walk away.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
But the damage is already done.
She’s gone.
Gemma...
My gem.
Fuck.
Fuck!
I grab the nearest object, a crystal vase, and hurl it against the wall with every ounce of strength I possess, shattering it into a thousand jagged shards raining down onto the floor.
I stare down. Blood oozes from several cuts on my hand and arm.
Kneeling down, I snatch up one of the larger, dagger-like pieces. I had her in my grasp. Falling for me just as hard as I’ve fallen for her. I clench my hand, the splinter slicing deep into my palm.
Gemma.
For the first time, I care.
I care about her dreams and passions. I want to protect her, cherish her, and make all her wishes come true.
She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and never knew I needed. Kind, passionate, talented, and I let her slip through my fingers like the blood dripping down, staining the black carpet beneath me.
All because I’m a scared fucking asshole. Scared to let someone in, to open myself up again. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looks at me. She saw the real me, flaws and all.
It’s my fault Novalie got taken all those years ago. My baby sister’s haunted eyes accuse me every time. If I hadn’t… she wouldn’t have suffered such horrors. I failed her.
And now I failed Gemma.
I flex my fingers, watching the deep gashes ooze.
Being with her felt as easy as breathing.
I’ve never let anyone get that close before.
And now she’s gone, thinking I’m no better than the spoiled elite who view people as dispensable accessories.
I never wanted to hurt her.
She deserves someone capable of giving their whole heart, not a man shackled by the ghosts of his past.
But I want her, God, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything. The only woman who ever stirred something real inside me.
If I were half the man my father expects me to be, I wouldn’t have made Esther my fiancé. The baggage I carry, the demons that haunt me, any sane woman would run.
But not my gem.
She faced me head-on tonight, calling me out on my bullshit.
I let go of the shard in my hand and sit on the couch, hunched over my knees.
All I can see is her face, streaked with tears, yet so beautiful, as she stood before me, challenging me to choose her. And I remained silent, like a fucking asshole.
Fuck.
“El—” Connor’s voice appears. “Jesus, what the fuck?”
I keep my eyes fixed on the coffee table. “Leave.”
“You’re bleeding all over the place. What the hell?” I hear his footstep retreat, and after a few seconds, he’s back, sitting down on the coffee table with a first aid kit.
“What happened?” Connor takes my hand, turning it.
“Doesn’t matter.” I try to pull away, but his grip is stronger.
Why the fuck is he here?
“I know Gemma was here.” He scans the room.
“We had a fight. She left. I got angry and...”
“Idiot.”
I wince as Connor cleans the gashes on my hand. Still, the sting of the antiseptic is nothing compared to the ache of Gemma’s absence. I need her.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks.
“About what?”
“You know what.”
I fucked up. I fucked up big time.
“I need that engagement. And by needing it, I failed her.”
“I don’t think your dad meant to marry any woman.”
“She said the same thing.” I’ve fucked up so badly. “I never meant to hurt her.”
His expression is unreadable as he finishes bandaging my hand.
“But you did,” he says bluntly. “What did you expect? Stringing her along while you play fiancé with Esther?”
I flinch at his words. He’s right.
“I didn’t know what else to do. Dad wanted me to settle down. Esther was convenient, and I thought I could keep Gemma on the side until...”
Until what, exactly?
“You’re a goddamn fool, cuz. Gemma’s not the type of girl you keep on standby.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes are sharp, assessing. “So what now? You gonna keep up this charade with Esther while Gemma walks away?”
I grit my teeth, hating the truth in his words. The mere thought of Gemma leaving me or being with someone else fills me with rage.
One thing is sure. Esther needs to go.
“Bash will kill you.” Connor closes up the first aid kit.
“I know.” And I do. But I’ll do whatever it takes to win her back, to show her I’m the man she deserves. And if that means getting hurt, then so be it. Because the pain I’m feeling now is nothing compared to the pain I’ll feel if I lose her forever.
Even if I have to burn my whole goddamn world down first.
“If you’re so in love with her, why not make her your fiancé?”
I meet his eyes. “I asked her.”
“Really? You got down on one knee? Before or after she called you an asshole?”
I clench my fist.
“Or was it bastard? A more classy one? Prick?”
He’s right. God, I’m an arrogant prick, bastard, whatever...
“Fine. I didn’t do it properly at all.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t have a plan yet. But I will.”
“Talk to her. Tell her how you feel. Sweep her off her feet. And for fuck’s sake, end it with Esther.”
“Is that what you’re doing with Mary? Talking?”
“Why did you tell Mary about us being at the party that night?”
Shit, with everything going on with Gemma, I forgot about that. “Look, I know you’re pissed. But I was only trying to help… move things along between you two.”
“What are you talking about?” He glares at me.
“You’ve been circling each other for weeks now. It’s time you make a move before it’s too late.” I hold his gaze. I might not be good at my own problems, but he needed the push.
“Did you really think that was going to work?”
“Didn’t it?”
“Cuz, you really don’t get it.” I’ve never seen him this pissed before. “I was this close to getting that fucker Chris out of her head. But after your little stunt? He’s everything she thinks about.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, man. I couldn’t sit back and watch you suffer in silence.”
“I don’t suffer in silence.”
“Right.” I hold up my hands. “My bad.”
He shakes his head, mouth pressed into a thin line. After a moment, he speaks again, his tone clipped.
“Focus on Gemma. I’ll handle things with Mary.”
“No more interference from me.”
Connor moves to the bar cart and grabs a bottle of scotch and two tumblers.
I down the scotch he poured me, letting the amber liquid burn away the bitter taste of regret.
“Another?” Connor already tops up my glass, not waiting for my answer.
I nod, the alcohol doing nothing to numb the hollow ache inside me.
“Cheers.” He clinks his glass against mine. “Remember when I was called to the principal because I hacked into the school system and got caught?”
“How could I forget? I got you out with two hours’ detention.”
“Bran still gives me shit about it. The only time I got caught.”
“Keep telling that yourself.”
“We should ask him.” I pour myself another scotch. “Bran.”
Connor snorts into his glass. “Seriously?”
“I’m dead fucking serious.” I lean back onto the couch. “He got things sorted with Naomi.”
“This is the same Brandon who uses ‘Are you from Tennessee?’ as a pickup line?”
“Seemed to work for him. At least 50% of the time.”
He shakes his head, but I can see his lips quirking upwards. “Never thought I’d see the day we’d ask Bran for relationship advice.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, cuz.” I shrug, then pause.
“Truce?” He holds up his scotch.
“Truce.” I clink my glass with his.
“Man, I could really go for one of Bran’s burgers right now.” I rub my stomach.
“Good Idea.” Connor pulls out his phone and calls Bran. “He’s probably still up.”
It rings once.
“This better be good,” Bran says through the speaker. “I was about to beat Bash.”
In the background, mixed with video game music, you can hear Bash’s voice. “Dream on.”
“We’re in dire need of food,” Connor says. “Think you can spare some for a couple of pathetic souls?”
“Pathetic is right.” Bran’s eye roll is audible through the phone. “You two need to learn how to feed yourselves.” There’s a pause, then, “Be over in twenty. Want Bash to bring the good whiskey?”
“Please,” Connor and I say.
Bran sighs like it’s a huge inconvenience. “Alright, you ingrates. But you owe me. Big time.”
The call ends, and Connor checks something else on his phone.
“You should go after her.” I swirl the liquid in my glass.
“What?”
“Mary. Don’t wait. Don’t second-guess yourself anymore. Go after her.”
“Yeah, I will.” He puts his phone back in his pocket.
Bran and Bash’s loud voices echo through the foyer as the elevator doors slide open. They stop short in the living room entrance, staring at the mess with matching frowns.
“Well, ain’t this cozy.” Brandon’s voice drips with sarcasm and his gaze lands on the shattered glass at his feet. “What the hell did you knuckleheads do now?”
He dumps the takeout on the table, the crunch of glass under his shoes making him curse again.
I open my mouth to explain, but he holds up a hand to stop me.
“Don’t even tell me. I need a drink first.” He heads to the kitchen, muttering something about forks.
With Bran gone, Bash shakes his head and goes to make himself a whiskey with the bottle he brought. The familiar clink of ice and glug of liquor is oddly comforting.
“Here, you animals.” Bran comes back waving forks like weapons.
He shoves some at us before plopping into the armchair across from us, glaring.
“Thanks, Mom,” Connor says.
I grab a food container. Lasagna. Nice.
“Here.” Bash passes Brandon a glass of whiskey.
“So, do we want to know what fresh hell you’ve dragged us into now, or should we start drinking and hope for the best?” Bash stares at us with a raised brow.
Connor and I exchange a look.
“Elijah fucked up with Gemma, and I fucked up with Mary,” Connor says.
“What?” Bash surges to his feet, the tumbler shaking in his grip. “You did what?”
“Real smooth, cuz.” I give him a side-eye.
Brandon snorts, digging into the takeout. “This is going to be interesting.”
“How could you do that to my sister?” Bash slams down the glass and steps closer to me.
I stand up. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”
“Sorry?” Bash scoffs. “Gem deserves better than your bullshit.”
He throws a punch, his fist slamming into my cheek in a burst of pain.
I stumble back, catching myself against the window. If it were Novalie, I’d do the same.
“Okay, I deserved that one.” I spit blood on the marble floor.
“Did you have fun playing with my little sister?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor straighten up in his seat while Brandon pauses mid-bite to watch us.
“Bash, I—”
“You don’t get to call me that after what you did.” Sebastian advances, fist raised for another blow.
I catch his wrist moments before it can connect with my face again. “Listen to me for a second.”
“Listen?” Bash lets out a harsh laugh. “You screwed over my sister like the arrogant jackass you are.”
“Literally screwed.” Brandon munches on his food.
“Not helping, Bran,” I say.
Bash tries to pull away, but I keep my grip on his fist.
“You’re pissed, and you have every right to be. But beating the shit out of me isn’t going to fix this.”
“The hell it won’t,” Bash says.
Still, he doesn’t make another move to hit me. He could easily knee me or use his other hand. He’s holding back.
“I fucked up, okay? I hurt her, and I hate myself for it.” I meet his furious gaze. “But I care about your sister. More than I should.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, right. Is that why you’re engaged to another woman?”
I flinch. His words hit harder than his fist. “It’s not that simple.”
“Seems pretty damn simple to me,” Bash says.
“Esther, my engagement, it’s all for my father. You know I hate Esther. You know why I did it. You know me.”
How can I make him understand? Bash’s eyes narrow, but he stops straining against my hold.
“I tried to keep away from her. At first. But every time I see her, I... lose control.” I don’t have the right words to describe what Gemma makes me feel. Never been good talking about this emotional crap. “She’s incredible. Beautiful, passionate, so goddamn strong. I can’t stay away, no matter how hard I try.”
“So you’re okay with losing my little sister over that?”
“No.”
Bash’s jaw works. But he’s listening.
“I don’t deserve her forgiveness. But I’ll do anything so she does if she lets me.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I never felt this way.”
“And yet, you let her walk away while keeping Esther?”
“Yes, I fucked up. I know. I let not only Gem down but you, too. I’m sorry.”
I was so caught up in my own bullshit, my own selfish desires, that I didn’t even realize what I was doing.
His chest heaves, his other hand clenched into a fist.
“Despite how it looks, I care about her. Deeply. I’m trying to make this right. But I need your help.”
Bash searches my face.
After a long moment, he jerks his fist from my grasp.
“If you really want to be with Gem, you end things with Esther. Now. Then maybe... we can talk about how to fix things between you and my sister.”
I nod, reach for my phone, dial Esther’s number, and put the call on speaker so they can all hear.
Bash’s head whirls to Connor. “And you, fix your shit, too. I’m not dealing with mopey fuckers who suffer in self-pity rather than trying to fix things.”
After a few rings, Esther picks up.
“Elijah, baby. Did you finally come around?” A sly laugh. “Do you want me to come over now?”
“The engagement is over.” I keep my voice even. “You—”
“What? No, you can’t be serious!” Her tone rises in panic, making my ears bleed.
“You have two days. After that, I’ll be bearing the news to everyone.”
“You can’t do this! Do you have any idea what you’re throwing away? My family’s connections, the opportunities—”
“I don’t give a shit about your father’s business dealings with my family.”
What’s the point of having that if the price is my little gem?
“You can’t do this! What about your father? Are you really going to spit on his dying wish?”
Ah, we’re playing that card. Too obvious.
“He’ll understand. In the end, he already met her.”
There’s a heavy silence on the other end. I glance at Bash and the guys, their eyes boring into me. Yes, I was surprised myself that I had taken Gemma to meet my father.
“You did what?”
“He’s very fond of her.”
“He wanted you to marry me.”
“He didn’t, and don’t pretend this was ever about family legacy or my father’s wish.” My voice drops, ice cold. “This engagement was only about power and status for you.”
“So what if it was?”
Should have dumped her ass way sooner.
“Two days, Esther. That’s all the notice you’re getting.”
“Elijah, please, we can talk about this—”
“We’re done.”
Before she can get another word in, I end the call and block her number.
Bash claps slowly. “About damn time. I was getting real sick of her.”
I nod, rubbing my face. “Me too.”
“Don’t you ever pull shit like that again, you hear me? We’ve been friends a long time, but that doesn’t mean I’ll keep putting up with it. Most of all, if it’s my sister,” Bash says.
“I won’t. Promise.”
Gemma is his world. If he can get past this, perhaps she can, too.
“If Esther causes any trouble…” Connor says.
“She won’t. Not if she knows what’s good for her.”
“My sister is going to give you hell. Are you ready for that?” Bash asks.
“He’ll have to grovel.” Brandon points his fork toward me. “The Elijah Milton down on his knees. Never thought it was possible.”
“I’ll do anything.” Never begged for anything in my life, but for Gemma, I’ll throw my pride aside and plead forever.
“You better mean that.” Sebastian picks up his whiskey again.
Gemma is the one I choose. I’ll always choose. I chose her the moment I introduced her to my father.
She needs time, but... fuck, how am I supposed to sit here and do nothing?