Chapter 43
Forty-Three
When I wake, dim light slants through the curtains, and the space beside me is cold. I jolt upright, the last twelve hours flashing back in fragmented bursts.
Oh, God.
Hyperventilating taps at my ribs. I scan the room—clock glowing, five hours gone—but nothing. No sign of him. Only a sliver of air coming through the slight crack of French doors keep me tethered to here, to now.
I pad toward it, push it wider, and there he is. The rain may have ceased, but the clouds are still swollen, framing Carson in charcoal gloom. Something solemn mars his stance.
Time lags as his head inclines, bloodshot eyes finding mine. He hasn’t slept.
For a long while we don’t move, caught in the quiet aftermath as the events of the day settle between us. I’m exposed, raw, and the salt-slick air curls over my skin like a whisper.
My tattoo throbs in time with my heartbeat.
Bryce. Bryce. Bryce.
The name is louder than thought, a pulse of its own. If he moves closer, will he hear it too?
I want him to.
And I’m afraid of what that means.
Silence scrapes, chafing along my skin. I give myself an extra second before braving it.
“Why…” My fingers wring tight. “Why haven’t you said anything yet?”
I felt it in the scald of his gaze. Saw it in the shack-white of his face.
He knows. Something. Everything. At the very least, he has to know Bryce was my sister.
And I’ve hidden it all this time.
He twists, the balcony rail taking his weight. His profile is cut unreadable in nothing but shadows.
“You remember that night you caught me at Pine Oak?”
I nod. He was with that woman…
“And what did I tell you?”
“That I was digging—”
“No,” he interjects, sharp. His jaw twitches then locks into stillness. “Not that. I told you to keep quiet about seeing me.”
I breathe out slowly. “I remember.”
The horizon yawns wide behind him, but it doesn’t diminish him. If anything it makes him seem more. More real, more solid.
“I was there with my grandfather. He’s… I don’t even know how to describe him.
Cunning. Controlling. Rich. Filthy rich, the kind where no doesn’t exist.” Distaste twists his lips.
“He never wanted my parents to marry; Mom never came from money. But she became pregnant, and my dad offered an ultimatum: accept her, or he was gone. Grandfather couldn’t risk it.
My dad was the only son. If it was up to him though, Mom would’ve taken his bribe to leave Grove and Dad would marry the ideal woman he cherrypicked for him, but alas.
” His hands spread in humourless punctuation.
I shake my head, not surprised but heavy-hearted.
“Years ago, some shit went down,” he continues.
“That’s why we left Grove. My dad was disinherited, and we were essentially excommunicated.
Don’t know what happened, but it was serious.
Mutual, too. My parents didn’t give a flying fuck we were being cast out.
They were more than willing to leave the town we built a home in.
” Rain-dew mists his face, sliding slow as his gaze drifts away.
“We didn’t hear from that side of the family since.
Not when he died. Not when it was his funeral.
Not when Hannah was born. Nothing.” His tone strains.
“Until Mom overdosed. Then he swept in with his money, and promises of better days ahead, and fuck me Bri, but I was helpless to deny him. The rehab he offered was leagues above anything we could afford. I wanted her to have a chance. But more than that, I knew he had the power to take Hannah from me. Permanently.”
A flicker of wrought iron gates. Unease clawing deep. “Has he?”
“No.” His answer lands firm. Relief leaves me on an exhale. “We made a deal. She’s in his care for now. But it’s not permanent. It never will be.”
“Deal?”
He pushes off the railing. “He wants me to play the golden grandson. Bridge connections. Shake hands with people he needs to get under his thumb.” He smirks, but it’s hollow.
“I’ve got a cousin who was meant to fill that role, but he’s off backpacking in Europe.
Don’t think he’s coming back anytime soon. So he needs a stand-in.”
The words scratch at the back of my mind, but I can’t follow them—because suddenly he’s closing in. One step. Another. Stopping just inches away.
When our eyes meet, it’s stripped of pretense. No defences, no lies, just us. The whole world blurs out, washed to grey, but here, here is colour. Blue, burning, bright.
Alive.
“Why I was at Pine Oak, what I was doing, there’s some things you gotta come to terms with in your mind. It feels fucking cheap, knowing how much my dad hated him and what he stood for, yet here I am. At his beck and call, letting him dictate parts of my life no one should ever control.”
I press my hand to his bicep, grounding us both. “You made a choice your dad would understand, even if he wouldn’t have made it himself. That doesn’t make it wrong.”
He jerks his head in a small nod. “Yeah. He would. But do you get why I didn’t want you telling anyone I was there?
It wasn’t because I thought the guys and Aspen would judge me.
It was because I needed to process it myself.
That doesn’t make me a bad friend—a bad person—for keeping secrets.
Some things are mine to hold onto.” His voice drops, rougher at the edges.
“And it doesn’t mean my grandfather gets to hate me for not speaking of him.
If he was a good man, he’d understand. He’d be fine with it. ”
My bottom lip trembles. He isn’t talking about his grandfather anymore. I know it.
“But what if you can’t forgive yourself for it?” I breathe. “What would you do then?”
His eyes don’t leave mine.
“I’d surround myself with people who love me, and I’d let them prove it’s possible.”