Page 86 of Brutal Sin
“Why? I didn’t kill her. I’m just not sorry she’sgone.”
“You’re grieving, Bryan.”
“Not for her.” He shook his head. He felt something, but it definitely wasn’t grief for the woman who’d birthed him. “I swear I couldn’t give a shit about her passing.”
“Then what happened earlier today?”
Earlier today? He ran over the day’s events, pinpointing the only thing worthy of making the rumor mill. “Fucking Cassie. What did shesay?”
“She was worried aboutyou.”
“Well, for the sake of my sanity, can we please ignore every other motherfucker on the face of the planet for the time being?”
“I’m worried aboutyou.”
Jesus Christ. Where the hell did he put the scotch?
“I don’t know what else to tell you.” He ran a hand through his hair, unable to explain his confusion. He’d never given a shit about his mother. He didn’t care about her death. It was something else. Something he couldn’t pinpoint.
“When Lucas died, I cried for days, even though we were never close.” Her voice came in slow, soft bursts. The depressing lilt reeked of despair. “It wasn’t until a week later that I realized I was grieving more for what could’ve been. I was hurting because the dreamy relationship I fought for us to have would never happen. I’d tried so hard to get him to love me, never giving up hope it would happen one day. Then he was gone. And so were all the fairytale dreams.” She lowered her gaze, staring at her feet. “I grieved for what could’ve been. Not the man who died… If that makes sense.”
He froze, her explanation sinking down to his marrow.
It was such simple insight. So easily spoken. Yet, it was exactly how he felt. He didn’t give a fuck about his egg donor. The thing tearing him apart was what he’d missed. What most people took for granted.
A pained laugh escaped, the action dislodging the ache behind his ribs. He couldn’t fathom the brilliance of this woman. He didn’t know why she knew his thoughts, or how she’d become abnormally insightful. He just loved the fact she was here, with him, pushing away the hollow feeling that no longer dictated his chest.
“Did I overstep?” She glanced up at him through thick lashes, the sight of her concern depriving him of words. “I’m sorry… I shouldgo.”
He couldn’t make herstay.
He shouldn’t.
“Again,” she added softly, “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. It gets easier. I promise.” She made for the end of the counter, her retreat encouraging the return of his hollow torment.
He needed her here. And yet, he didn’t have any way to encourage her to stick around.
There were no bonus points for enduring his company. He didn’t have the kindhearted nature of T.J. or the smooth sophistication ofLeo.
Only a shitty attitude and an even shittier outlook onlife.
“Don’t.” That was all he had. One word. One pathetic, timid syllable.
She paused, her back to him, her hands limp at her sides. He could feel her slipping away, moving closer and closer toward an escape even though she remained in place.
“Stay a while.” He came up behind her and wove a hand around herhip.
The only asset in his arsenal wassex.
Carnal finesse.
The gift of orgasms.
She gave an audible swallow, and he fought the need to cringe. Everything about her spoke of discomfort—her stiff spine, her rushed breathing, her silence.
She turned, her hip brushing his crotch with painful effect. The slight connection had his cock filling with rapidly-pulsing blood. Those dark lashes beating up at him made coherence difficult.
“You want a distraction?”
