Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Isla
The late afternoon sun slants through the live oaks lining Wheeler Street, casting dappled shadows across the cracked sidewalk as I trudge up to my apartment complex.
My satchel, heavy with graded papers and a dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre , digs into my shoulder.
The weight feels grounding, a reminder that I’m trying—really trying—to stitch my life back together.
Teaching today was a small victory, even if my voice shook during my lecture on Bronte’s themes of independence. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
My sneakers scuff the concrete as I climb the stairs, my legs heavy from more than just the long day.
I’m still hollow, still raw from the truths that gutted me—my father’s escort ring, Lena’s ghost, Dorian’s lies, Brennan’s prison time.
But I’m here, moving forward, one forced step at a time.
It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done.
I round the corner to my apartment door and freeze.
Brennan.
He’s leaning against the wall beside my door, arms crossed, his broad frame filling the narrow hallway.
His dark hair is mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it.
As always, I’m captivated by the scar bisecting his eyebrow and the way his stormy blue eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
He’s in a black T-shirt and jeans, not his usual tailored suit, and the casualness makes him seem more human, more vulnerable. More devastatingly handsome.
Breath vaporizes in my lungs.
But the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers flex against his biceps, tells me he’s anything but relaxed.
“Brennan.” My voice is flat, betraying none of the chaos erupting inside me—relief, anger, longing, all tangled into a knot I can’t unravel.
My hands are trembling, making me fumble with my keys. “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t move, just watches me, his gaze tracking every twitch of my expression. “You haven’t answered my calls. My texts.” His voice is low, steady, but there’s a crack in it, a hint of the strain I’ve caused. “I’ve tried to be patient. Give you space.” He shrugs, admitting defeat.
The motion is so honest, so him, that I attempt a small smile. But it falls before it fully forms.
Having him here is a reminder of all that I’ve lost and everything I’m trying to recover from.
“I had to see you. Had to know you’re okay.”
“You know I’m fine.” I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder toward the black SUV that never seems to move. I know the team inside has to switch out at times, but I’ve never seen it happen.
And every time I leave the house, a sedan tails me.
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
With a sigh, my movements jerky, I somehow manage to unlock the door and push it open slightly .
“Invite me in.”
My heart accelerates. That would be a recipe for disaster.
And yet…
Every part of me aches for what we used to have.
Though I hate it, my mind spins back to the first time he took me…
“You need to know you belong to us both. Equally.”
His cock was so hard, and he was ready for me, but he still offered to wait for the morning.
Then gently he feathered his lips across mine, his kiss a gentle tease that ignited my senses.
Promising to be sure I was ready, he slid a rough palm down my stomach to tease my clit.
Even though I’d been a little sore from Dorian, a blaze ignited inside me.
“You want us.”
He’d been right. And worse? I still do. Achingly so.
“All I want to do is talk. I promise.”
His words bring me back to the present, but I know I’m blushing, and I wonder if he’s read my mind.
But the reminder of the pull he has over me terrifies me. “I’m not sure we have anything to say to each other.”
“Dorian doesn’t know I’m here.”
Needing support, I reach for the door frame.
From inside, there’s a plaintive meow, and Calypso pushes her paw through the small opening between us and her.
“I think Calypso wants to see me.” He cracks a small smile. “And I want to see her.”
A million times and in a million ways, he’s been so loving to her.
In the end, Calypso’s second plaintive wail is the thing that convinces me. Since I went back to work, she’s been alone more than she’s accustomed to. She has to be as lonely as I am. “Fair warning. She’s going to try to escape.”
“Want me to grab her? Or hold your stuff while you do it?”
After thinking it through, I hand off my belongings to him. “Open the door slowly.”
“Roger that.”
He does, and I manage to get my hands around Calypso before she can fully exit the apartment.
Surprising me, she doesn’t squirm or try to get away, just seems to be content to be held against my chest.
In moments, we’re inside with the door closed. He slides the lock home with a click that sounds too final. With a mewl, Calypso reaches a paw toward Brennan.
My heart has a complete meltdown.
She starts squirming, and he takes the wiggling ball of fur from my arms.
Instantly she coos and head bumps him. “I missed you too,” he tells her, petting her.
His presence takes up a lot of space, making my apartment shrink.
Realizing I can’t stand so close to him and keep my sanity, I move into the living room. The room’s a complete mess. But why wouldn’t it match my internal state?
I’m very much aware of how lumpy my furniture is, how uncomfortable he’ll be if he sits, how much cat hair is on every surface. In fact I’d be surprised if he wanted to stay. “I don’t have any wine to offer you. Bottled water, maybe?”
“I’m fine.”
Without an invitation, he drops into a chair, somehow managing to keep Calypso comfortable while also setting down my satchel.
At a loss, I remain standing.
Part of me wants him to go .
Another part yearns to know how he is, for news of Dorian, for the life I left behind. I hate that I want to know, hate that I’m still tethered to them.
“You’re back at school.”
I knew he was informed. “Yeah.” And it’s as foreign now as my new life had been the day I was forced into a wedding gown that wasn’t mine.
Brennan pets Calypso. Her purrs are a soft hum in the stifling quiet of my apartment.
“How is it?”
Maybe I should be grateful for the mundane conversation. “It’s…” Hard to define. Struggling with words, I shrug. “Different.”
The AC unit is fighting to keep up with the Houston heat, and suddenly the place feels fifteen degrees warmer.
Brennan looks at me, his penetrating blue eyes pinning me in place.
The late afternoon light filters through the blinds, painting his face in sharp angles and shadows, and I’m struck by how different he looks here—not the unyielding enforcer of Dorian’s world, but a man who is human and tired.
“Different how?” he prompts, his tone is gentle, but it cuts through the haze of my thoughts.
I wrap my arms around myself, nails biting into my skin to anchor me. “I’m not the same.” Teaching used to be my haven, where I could lose myself in the cadence of words, in the spark of a student’s understanding.
Today’s lecture felt like a lie. My voice sounded hollow as I talked about independence while being chained to memories of them—of him, of Dorian, of a life I never belonged in.
He leans forward, and Calypso makes herself more comfortable, shifting in his lap, her tail flicking lazily. “Are you eating? Sleeping? ”
No doubt his guards report what time I turn off the light at night. If I ever do.
Brennan has not taken his sharp gaze off me.
He knows me, and he’s too observant not to notice the shadows under my eyes or the way my clothes hang even looser than they should.
“You’re beautiful, Isla. As always. Breathtaking. But…”
“Don’t say it.” I’m holding on by a thread, and I don’t need anyone pointing out that the ends are fraying.
Instead of looking at him, I focus on a stray thread in the rug, anything to avoid the pull of his presence. Still, I inhale his scent, of determination and steel. It’s as grounding as it is raw. He’s Brennan, all Brennan, breathtaking and tender, making my heart twist with every breath.
“I didn’t come here to bring you back.”
Stunned, I freeze. “No?”
“After everything that happened that night, I left.”
The news stuns me, and I grab hold of the back of the couch for support.
Calypso looks over, and Brennan soothes her.
“You…?”
“I’m in an apartment in the same building.” His hand stills. “But I haven’t seen him.”
Speechless, I wait for him to go on.
“I won’t stand by and watch him destroy himself.” Pointedly he looks at me. “And everyone around him.”
His jaw is tight, his eyes distant, like he’s staring at a wound only he can see. “He needs to figure out his shit.”
I blink as his words sink in.
Brennan and Dorian are inseparable, two halves of one whole. Brennan walking away is unthinkable, like the earth splitting.
The thought of them broken apart mirrors the crack in my own heart, and I’m not sure if it’s relief or grief that chokes me.
“He’s being a fucking dick—to his admin, his staff, the security team. Barking orders, tearing through the office like a goddamn god intent on destroying everything.”
“How’s that different from any other day?” My wry attempt at humor falls flat, and we both seem to know I’m trying to cover for the way I hurt at the thought of Dorian unraveling.
Brennan’s lips quirk, a fleeting shadow of a smile. “It’s worse. He’s lost it since you left.”
That may be part of it, but the truth is so much deeper. “Since we left.”
In acknowledgment of my correction, he raises one shoulder.
“Regardless, I’m not here for him or because of him,” he reassures me again.
“I’m here because I miss you, Isla. Every fucking second.
Your laugh, the way you hum when you’re working hard, the way you make this”—he gestures at the cluttered room, at Calypso purring in his lap—”or any space feel like home. Comforting. A place I want to be.”
My throat closes, tears pricking hot and unwelcome. I want to scream at him to stop, to not rip open the wounds I’m barely stitching shut.
Instead, I whisper, “You can’t say that. Not after everything. Lena, my father, the lies. You were part of it.”
“Yeah. I was. I own that.” He moves Calypso from his lap, setting her down gently, and she weaves between his legs, her soft meows proving how much she, too, has missed him. “And I owe you an apology.”
Brennan stands, closing the distance between us in two strides, his presence a tidal wave I can’t outrun.
“I know we fucked up.” His voice is low, fervent.
“ I fucked up. Keeping you in the dark, not letting you know what you were dealing with, thinking we could protect you—it was wrong. But Isla, I—” He stops, his breath uneven, and then his hands are on my face, warm and calloused, framing my cheeks like I’m something precious. “I love you.”
The words shatter the pieces I’ve been trying to hold together.
In an instant, his lips crash against mine, hungry and desperate, a kiss that’s all heat and heart, pouring everything he is into me.
It’s meaningful, electric, a vow sealed in the press of his mouth, and I’m drowning, my hands fisting in his shirt, clinging to him even as my mind screams to pull away.
“Brennan, I…” My voice is a broken sob as he pulls back, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged.
He presses a finger to my lips, silencing me. “Shh. Just promise me you’ll remember this. And me.” His voice is a low rumble, thick with emotion, his eyes fierce and unwavering, branding me with his love.
I nod, tears spilling down my cheeks, unable to speak.
He pushes himself upright, and as if she knows she’s about to lose him again, Calypso winds around his legs. Her purrs are a soft plea.
His gaze filled with emotion, he studies me. “You could come with me.” He exhales and attempts a smile. “My place. Just us. No Dorian, no past. Just you and me.”
The offer is a spark, tempting me. I see it—quiet mornings with him, Calypso curled between us, no weight of Dorian’s lies or Lena’s ghost.
My body aches for it, for his steadiness, his touch. But the truth is there, as cold as it is undeniable.
“It’s not just us.” I shake my head. “It’s supposed to be the three of us. And knowing Dorian’s so close? I’m not sure I could take it.”
His eyes darken, pain flashing through them. But he gives a curt, accepting nod. “I had to try.” His tone is rough with resignation.
He heads to the door, Calypso alongside him. “I’ll wait, Isla.” Calypso brushes her tail against his jeans. “For as long as it takes.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and I wrap my arms around myself, as if I can hold myself together as my heart shatters again.
Calypso nudges my ankle, but I can’t move, can’t breathe.
The memory of Brennan’s kiss burns on my lips. His love is a weight I can’t carry, but also one I can’t let go of.
I do love him.
Them.
I’m alone, but I’m not free, and maybe never will be.
My breath catches on a hiccup as tears sting my eyes.
I make my way onto the couch, and Calypso curls against me.
The world keeps turning, but I’m stuck, caught between the men I love and the truth I can’t escape, wondering if I’ll ever find my way back to myself—or if I even want to.