“You can’t,” he answers harshly, shouldering past me and disappearing into the kitchen. Bishop follows closely behind him. Brantley rolls his eyes, tilting his head back like he’s exhausted from the same shit.
He wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my hair. “Little terror. You didn’t play nice with Nate’s little plaything?”
I growl.
Brantley chuckles, his chest shaking. “You wouldn’t be my little terror if you did.”
“He has feelings for her?” I ask, but it comes out mumbled because my face is buried so deep in his clothes.
“Yes and no.”
“I’m so sick of competing against other girls when it comes to his affection, Bran Bran. Throughout our entire relationship—if that’s what you can even call it—I’ve had to compete for a spot in his heart, only to watch him treat everyone nice, and me? Not so nice.” I pause when I realize I’m about to choke on my sobs. Snot and everything dripping down my nose. I rub it against Brantley because I know he won’t care. His arms squeeze me tighter.
“It’s not that, Tillie. It’s so much more complex than what you’re thinking.”
“It’s not, though. I fell in love with a man who has no heart for me.”
Brantley pushes me back, his hands squeezing my arms. He searches my eyes. “Baby, that man has everything for you.”
“I don’t believe you,” I whisper, searching his eyes. “Bran Bran.”
I pull away from him and make my way upstairs. I need a bath and two hundred shots of vodka. One for every time Nate has broken my heart.
Nate
Hearing her open up to Brantley like that didn’t bother me as such.
The tears did a little.
But hearing her say that she has had to compete for me, messed with me on a new level. I’ve been fucked a lot, and no pussy has fucked me as hard as Tillie’s words did in that sentence. I feel hollow, and fucking shit.
I slide down the wall in the kitchen, hearing her footsteps drag upstairs. I lose myself in a daze as Brantley’s boots come into view when he enters. He stops, goes straight for the cupboard, and then drops down on the floor directly opposite me.
Flicking off the top of the vodka, he takes a swig.
“I feel like we’ve done this more times than I’ve had my dick wet lately,” he murmurs, handing me the bottle.
I reach for it, desperate for something. Anything to numb the ache that’s roaring in my chest. The ache that I put there myself, as a product of the epic fuck up that is me.
“More than I care to admit,” I answer, hissing when the poison hits my stomach.
“Two questions…” Brantley mutters, his eyes coming to mine. “One, are you going to fix this? And two, or are you going to let her go?”
I think over his words. I’ve done some heavy damage to her in the time that we’ve been together, without really being together. She deserves every fucking thing that she wants, and I don’t know if it’s me and this world that she really wants. Why would she want to be held by the same hands that broke her?
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“Think of her. Not you,” Brantley says before standing.
“Alright, Dr. Phil.” I follow suit, handing him back the bottle. “Let’s get this fucking ceremony over with so she can at least be back on world soil.”
I start heading back through the kitchen and to the dining room, just as Brantley’s hand comes out and stops me. “Don’t tease her with Valentina. You’re both past that and she’s dealt with enough of that bullshit. Also, if you care for your little toy’s safety, I wouldn’t push Tillie too far. Your toy might end up… broken.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I know.” Then I shove through and head into the dining room where Bishop is sitting, eyes distracted and lost in the distance.
“We need to talk…”
“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling the seat out before I take it. “Now what.”
“It’s true,” Bishop whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Brantley enters just as Bishop says the words.
“What’s true?” Brantley asks, his eyes going between the two of us.
I bury my face into my hands, running my fingertips through my hair. “She can’t know. Brantley, we need to tell you something…” I cover my mouth with my hand.
Brantley glares at both of us. “Fucking secrets. Really?”
“No.” I shake my head, because out of everything, I can’t handle Brantley being salty as fuck with me. “It was kept between the two of us until we could find proof, which Bishop has.”
Brantley takes a seat, his jaw clenching.
Bishop’s eyes go to Brantley. “We know about Saint.”
Tillie
We’re at the front of the gates of the mansion, and I have The Kings behind me, standing firm. I turn to the left, my eyes finding Benny, who’s watching me with obvious zeal. His eyes drop up and down my body, taking me in slowly. I chose the sluttiest thing I could find in Khales’ wardrobe, which wasn’t hard considering she owned patches as shirts. It’s a small black dress that hugs all of my curves. Strapless, pushing my tits up and has a nice little slit up the left thigh that goes right up past my hip.
Hello, no panties.
I matched it with thigh-high boots and spent hours on my hair and makeup. I wanted to look unstoppable and strong. I figure if I look strong, it will hide the fact that I’m falling apart inside.
I swallow past my nerves, my eyes glassing over as I gaze back out in front of me. I don’t look at the swarm of people. I keep my eyes locked on the end of the road, so far back that I can actually see. When Gabe begins talking, I start counting shops.
One.
Two.
Twenty-four.
By shop fifty, Valentina is walking up to us with a long robe on, a hoodie covering her face.
I don’t look at her, because fuck her,
