Chapter 47 #2
“I’m proud of you,” I tack on, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze.
“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to find happiness again.
I might not have known the person you were before you knocked on my door two years ago, but I feel like these past couple of months have given me a glimpse.
I regret not introducing you to Andi from the get-go.
If I’d known she was the key to helping you get your shit together, we never would’ve kept her a secret from you.
” I smile sheepishly, feeling guilty for how we handled the situation.
Our intentions were pure, but I’m starting to think we went about it in the wrong way.
“Nah.” Briggs shakes his head in denial.
“You guys were right to keep me in the dark. If I had known Andi back then, it would’ve made my recovery a million times worse.
I can’t even fathom what it must have been like to know what she was going through and be incapable of doing anything to change her circumstances.
I’d have scaled the compound’s walls and slaughtered every one of them.
” A slightly maniacal grin stretches across his face, as if the idea of butchering her captors makes him gleeful. I can’t say I don’t agree with him.
“Hell,” I answer automatically, thinking back to those months we were forced to go a week at a time before knowing if she’d made it through another seven days unscathed. Rarely was that the case, but she was still breathing, and that was all we could hope for at the time. “It was absolute hell.”
“Ya know,” Briggs starts, twisting his neck side to side to alleviate the strain in his muscles.
“I was fascinated by Andi when I first met her. I couldn’t understand how she went through what she did, experienced years’ worth of torture, and she never let it change her.
What does that say about me?” Briggs questions, turning to face me once again.
“Three weeks is all it took, and they destroyed every part of me. The career I had spent damn near a decade working towards, my ability to see the good in the world. They stole everything that made me, me. But the saddest part of all is that I let them. I didn’t fight. I didn’t try at all.”
Briggs swipes the back of his hand across his cheek, but the last thing he needs is to fight the dam of emotions he’s been holding back for far too long.
I stand abruptly, not giving him a chance to shy away, then pull Briggs to his feet as well.
I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly.
It takes him a second to come to terms with the fact that I’m embracing him, with no plans of letting go anytime soon, but then he succumbs, his hands fisting the back of my shirt as the levee finally gives way.
A sob catches in his throat as he mutters, “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have walked away from Andi like that. I can’t lose her, Col. Everything’s dark and lifeless without her.”
“You’re not gonna lose her,” I state adamantly. “You two had a small fight, which is likely only the first of many, but she loves you, Briggs. That’s not going to change because you had a small disagreement.”
“Small?” He snorts derisively, then steps away to pull himself together.
Running his hand through his hair, he tilts his head back and speaks to the sky when he asks, “What’s the likelihood of Andi believing my ex was just an apparition that managed to escape Hell for the sheer pleasure of taunting me and attempting to ruin my life? ”
“Pretty low,” I jest.
“Figured as much,” he grunts in response.
“Gotta say, I had no idea you were ever engaged to be married,” I comment, hoping he’ll do me a solid and fill in the blanks without me having to pry any further.
“There’s a reason for that,” he says, his face contorting with annoyance.
“Charlotte and I were practically a modern-day arranged marriage. Wealthy families like mine are never satisfied with what they have, always wanting more, and the best way to build your assets is to combine them with someone else’s who’s just as affluent as you are.
Our parents were best friends, so it was expected of us to one day wed.
I asked her out of obligation, but the moment I was on my own, away from my family’s influence, I called it off.
I was two months into my humanitarian work in South America, and ended things over a video chat because I couldn’t stomach being engaged to her for another second.
“I knew she was hurt, but I never felt anything but friendship towards Charlotte. I tried, but that’s not something that can be forced.
Before everything happened, I’d already decided to part ways with my family.
Being there, surrounded by people who had nothing but the clothes on their backs, made it all the more apparent how spoiled and entitled I’d become.
I didn’t want a life that was filled with stepping on anyone who got in my way just to make it to the top.
After I was taken, I actually longed to see my parents, because surely their mask would drop and they’d show their only son that he wasn’t just a commodity they could pimp out to boost their net worth.
” Briggs laughs, but it’s devoid of any humor.
“Fuck, was I wrong.” He shakes his head sadly.
“They tried to send me away. Lock me up in some fancy mental institution that masquerades as a wellness center for the rich and famous. Rumors had begun to swirl, and if there’s one thing the Sinclair family won’t stand for, it’s their name being tarnished.
I left and haven’t looked back since. I have no idea what would possess Charlotte to seek me out after two years of no contact, or why my parents have been monitoring my credit cards, but their prying ends here and now.
As soon as I can, I’ll cancel my cards and open new ones they don’t have access to.
And if I have to, I’ll take out a fucking restraining order on Charlotte.
It’d bring me great pleasure to watch Raiden arrest her when she inevitably breaks it.
People like her always think they’re above the law because they’re so used to mommy and daddy fixing everything. ” His dramatic eye roll makes me laugh.
“Fuck ‘em,” I tell him, hoping the inflection in my voice lends credence to how serious I am. “They don’t deserve to be a part of your life, and you’re certainly better off without them.”
“As titillating as this has been,” a voice I don’t recognize interrupts.
“I feel like it’s my godly duty to warn you there’s a thunderstorm approaching.
” I spin around, finding a blue-haired teenager straddling a little girl’s bike.
Her elbows are braced between the handlebars, chin on her fists, as she gives Briggs and me a patronizing smile.
“You,” Briggs grumbles in annoyance.
“And so we meet again,” she teases.