Chapter 20 Brodan
brODAN
Years ago, when I first lost Monroe, I didn’t think I could ever feel as bad as I felt in those months afterward. They were the reason I sought out acting. I wanted to lose myself in other characters, in other lives, so I didn’t have to dwell on all I’d lost in mine.
Then a few years ago, I’d received a letter that fucked with my head, and I didn’t think I’d ever feel guiltier, or more of a failure, as I had at that moment. Though the damage Fergus wreaked upon my family because of me certainly did its worst.
Nothing in my life, however, could prepare me for my current state of agony.
Once upon a time, Monroe Sinclair was so vital to me, I would have protected her against anyone who tried to hurt her, no matter what it took to make her safe and happy.
How was it possible that I could be the source of so much of her pain?
I think I’d allowed myself to believe that she hadn’t loved me like I loved her. It had made it easier to let her go.
But as she tore me to shreds with her confessions, realization dawned.
Stunned, I let her leave me on that beach. I’d given her that space. Because I had a truth to uncover first before I spoke to Roe again.
I was like the walking wounded as I banged on Mrs. Sinclair’s door the next afternoon.
Waiting, I could feel my fury building, as if I needed that emotion to cope with how much everything bloody well hurt.
I didn’t sleep last night. I’d forced myself to stay away from Monroe’s mum’s door until I couldn’t anymore. Answers were required.
They were essential.
She took a while to open, but finally Mrs. Sinclair appeared before me, looking as if she’d aged forty years in the eighteen since I’d last seen her. If she’d done what I was pretty certain she’d done, I’d blame her black soul for her physical decline.
She squinted at me, and then recognition slackened her wrinkled face. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk.” I barged in, brushing past her as she blustered and gawped like a goldfish.
Finally, with a beleaguered sigh, she closed the door and followed me in, her walking stick thumping on the carpeted floor.
Standing in her cottage was like going back in time.
Barely anything had changed since the last time I was here.
Speaking of which … I turned to face her as she eased herself into an armchair.
“The letter I left for Monroe all those years ago … you didn’t give it to her, did you?”
Her lips pinched together, and then her eyes narrowed. “Are you the reason Monroe has been behaving like a petulant child recently? I thought you were off in Hollywood with your Hollywood sluts to keep you company. What do you care about Monroe?”
“Answer the question.”
“Oh, you think because you’re rich and famous, you can come into an old woman’s home and interrogate her? I don’t think so.”
“The letter?”
She sneered at me and, for the first time, I saw pure malice on that woman’s face. It destroyed me knowing this was what Monroe had been subjected to her whole life.
“You didn’t give it to her.” It wasn’t a question. I already knew.
Fuck.
Stupid fucking arsehole for trusting this negligent cow to do one good thing for her daughter.
Before I could lose my temper, the front door slammed, and footsteps sounded down the hallway. Suddenly Monroe was there, clutching two grocery bags. Her eyes widened in shock, and her gaze moved from me to her mum.
Mrs. Sinclair huffed, “I thought you weren’t coming back.”
“I only came by to drop off one last shop and to ask you where Dad is buried.” She glanced between us again as I froze at the news her father was dead. “What’s going on?”
“This boy was just leaving, that’s what’s going on,” Monroe’s mum snapped.
“Monroe, put the bags down. Please,” I requested.
“Get out!” Mrs. Sinclair snarled.
I glowered at her. “Not before she knows the truth.”
“Oh, God, what now?” Monroe dropped the bags, as if she couldn’t hold them anymore, groceries spilling onto the carpet at her feet.
I took a tentative step toward her, drinking in her beautiful face, wishing I could hold her as I told her the truth. Knowing that I might never hold her again. Swallowing hard against that thought, I said, “I never abandoned you, Monroe.”
Her chin jerked back. “What do you mean?”
“That’s enough!”
I pointed a finger at Mrs. Sinclair and clipped out, “You shut up.”
Her lips slammed together like she couldn’t believe I’d spoken to her like that. Auld witch.
Turning back to Roe, I explained, “When you ran off that night, you left your phone. I couldn’t get in touch with you. And honestly, I didn’t know if you’d want me to, so I came here.”
Monroe shook her head slowly.
“I came here with your phone and a letter. In the letter, I apologized for how I reacted and I told you I just wanted to know you were all right. That you were”—emotion thickened my voice—“that you were still my best friend, and if I was still yours, then just to call me.”
Tears brimmed in Monroe’s eyes as she turned them accusingly on her mother. “I never got that letter or my phone.”
“Which would make sense since I tried calling you for weeks after that.” I took another step toward her. “I let my stupid pride stand in my way because I should have just come to you at school. But I convinced myself you were done with me.”
“That I abandoned you.” A tear slipped down Monroe’s cheek, and I felt her torment like it was my own. Bloody hell. We were a fucking Greek tragedy.
And she wasn’t wrong. Most of it was my doing.
Well, we wouldn’t end as a tragedy. As much as she scared the shit out of me, life with her had to be a million times better than life without her.
Her tear-filled gray eyes flew to her mother. “Why?”
Mrs. Sinclair lifted her chin in arrogance. “You weren’t meant for the likes of an Adair. I always knew that boy would hurt you. I was protecting you.”
“Like you were protecting me when you didn’t tell me my dying father wanted to see me?” she seethed.
What the fuck?
Yesterday, on the beach, when I’d been running and saw Monroe up ahead, it had felt like the world gave way beneath my feet at the sound of her scream tearing through the skies. That sound terrified me. Her agony haunted me. Now I think I knew what had caused the pain.
Rage churned in my gut as I glowered at her mother. “You didn’t.”
“I will not be talked to like this in my own home!”
“Fine.” Monroe shook her head. “Never mind about Dad’s grave. I want nothing from you ever again. I’ll find out for myself. You can rot in isolation for all I care. Never call me again.” Monroe turned and stalked out of sight.
“Just like your father! Abandoning your family! You horrible wee bitch!” Mrs. Sinclair screamed after her.
“Enough!” I barked, and she slammed back in her chair like she was frightened. That furious part of me found a perverse satisfaction in her fear. “You heard Monroe. Never contact her again.”
“Or what?”
“I didn’t protect her from you when I should have … but I won’t make that mistake again. If I have to, I’ll drive you out of Ardnoch to keep you away from Monroe.”
“You can’t do that.”
“You’d be surprised what an Adair can do.”
“You’re threatening me? An old lady? Pathetic.”
“No, what’s pathetic is a woman so filled with spite and self-loathing she isn’t even capable of loving her own child.” I bent my head toward her, voice thick with promise, “Cross Monroe again, and I’ll make you a fucking pariah in this town. Understood?”
She scoffed, “So that’s what’s hiding behind that fake charm of yours. You’re a bully.”
“Takes one to know one.” I cut her one last dark look and marched from that cold cottage. Outside, I searched left and right for Monroe, and relief filled me to find her sitting in her car. I hurried over and got into the passenger side.
Monroe startled, turning to me, face pale, eyes haunted, cheeks tearstained. I wanted to touch her, to wipe the tears from her face, but I knew it was too soon. “Brodan. I thought you left me.”
I knew she spoke of eighteen years ago. “I didn’t. But I did.”
Monroe shook her head. “But I thought you threw me away because of Arran, and I was so angry at you. And all this bloody time, she kept your letter from me. I had to get a new phone, and they wouldn’t transfer my number because you owned it.”
“Shit.” Of course. Technically, Lachlan owned it. He’d obviously stopped paying it and didn’t bring it up because Monroe was not a topic I let anyone discuss.
“All that time,” she whispered, grief-stricken. “All that time lost. And now all that’s left between us is resentment and hurt.”
Her words sliced through me. “That’s not all that’s between us, Roe.”
“Yes, it is.” She turned away. “It doesn’t change the past. It doesn’t change how you’ve treated me. Who you’ve become. I’ve been your target practice, Brodan. But … my heart can’t take it anymore.”
Panic suffused me, and I reached for her hands, gripping tight. “Please give me a chance to prove that’s not who I am. I will never treat you that way again.”
She eyed me incredulously. “I don’t believe you. I loved you once in a way I have never loved anyone.”
Emotion stung my nose and thickened my throat.
“But I love the boy I left behind. I don’t love the man. I could never love someone who has treated me as you’ve treated me.”
Fuck, that hurt. I released her hands and a strained huff escaped as I tried to suck back tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sounding as lost as I felt.
I shook my head. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” I told her gruffly. “Goodbye, Monroe.” I got out of her car, the cold late-November air whipping across my skin like a slap from the universe. It made me halt before closing the door.
Monroe was right. There was no way she could love a man who’d treated her like the enemy for the last few months. Who had fucked her and then taunted her.
That was not the man I wanted to be. Ever again.
A man driven by his trauma and his fears.
Someone I was ashamed of.
Yet a man could change, couldn’t he? A person could become better than they were before?
I turned around and bent down into the car.
Monroe’s wide eyes held mine.
“No.”
She raised a brow. “What?”
“Not goodbye.” Determination filled me. “I’ve spent my life running from anything that might hurt me, but I’m done. I know with my very being that I will never intentionally hurt you again.”
“Brodan—”
“You don’t believe me. I know. I understand why. But you will believe me, eventually. I’m going to prove it. Just give me time.”
“For what purpose?” She looked so exhausted I wanted to take her in my arms and keep her there forever.
However, patience was required for that outcome.
“To be with you,” I answered honestly.
Her lips parted in shock.
“I want what I could have had if I hadn’t acted like a frightened wee boy when we were kids. I want you.” Deciding she’d had enough shocks for one day, I gave her a small smile and stood up to close her door.
The memory of her stunned expression made me smile sadly to myself as I walked toward my SUV. Patience wasn’t one of my virtues, but for Monroe, I’d have all the patience in the world. Fear lingered in the background, just as Lachlan had warned, but I was done letting it win.