Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“But I loved you, and I walked away from you because I didn’t think you cared anymore. It was easier to let the fear win. My cowardice left you thinking no one loved you. I can’t forgive myself for that.”
“You’re not to blame, Brodan. No one is to blame but Steven. He’s a piece of shit. You might not forgive yourself, but I forgive you. I forgive us. You need to forgive us as well.”
His expression softened. “You were always wiser than me.” Then, just as quickly as he’d softened, his features hardened. “Now tell me what that bastard did to you.”
I took another swig of coffee before continuing. “Steven pulled me in with how passionate he was about me. How much he wanted me and how quickly he fell for me. He told me he’d never fallen for someone so fast. I felt special because he made me feel that way. He made me feel loved. And even if I didn’t love him back in the same way, I was addicted to how much he wanted me.
“However, a year into our relationship, he lost his job, and he started to take it out on me. Steven turned out to be just like my father.” The thought of Dad threatened to open a volcano of emotions, so I continued quickly, “Every time I tried to leave him after he’d hit me, he would apologize and make me feel loved again.”
“Jesus fuck,” Brodan bit out, letting go a shuddering sigh that seemed to rattle his insides.
I couldn’t look at him as I confessed, “I try hard not to be ashamed of the fact that I stayed with him for so long. It was part fear, part manipulation, and a wee part of me had begun to believe that maybe it was me. Maybe there was a reason this was how people ‘loved’ me.”
“Roe, no,” Brodan whispered harshly.
“I know.” And I hated that there was ever a point in my life when I’d believed that. “I know better now. I talked to a counselor behind Steven’s back, and she helped me a lot. It took me a long time to break the cycle, but eventually, I left him and got a restraining order. By then, I was thirty years old. It took me three years to be free of him. For the past seven years, he’s sent me a card on my birthday and at Christmas. He’s made no other move. After all this time, I reckon he’s just a coward. He has no plans to actually do anything to me, but he likes me on edge. He doesn’t want me to forget him. I just … don’t know how he knew to send one to the cottage, considering I’ve only been forwarding my mail here for a few weeks.”
Silence fell between us, and eventually, I forced myself to look at Brodan.
His whole body trembled with rage.
Then he said with quiet fury, “I’m going to find him, and I’m going to fucking end him.”
Fear jolted through me. “No, you will not. Please, Brodan. Don’t do anything. Like I said, he just sends the cards to mess with me. He has no intention of doing anything. It’s been seven years.”
“Seven years too long.” Brodan stood to his feet. “This stops now.”
“Brodan—”
“I won’t kill him. Even though it’ll take every ounce of self-control I have. But Walker and I are going to find him, and we’re going to make sure he knows you are now off-limits. No one fucks with you again, Monroe. And I will ruin anyone who tries.”
Even though my heart beat frantically at his words, I stood and forced myself to remind him, “I can take care of myself.”
“Aye, you can, and you do it very well, my love. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you too.”
My love.
My mind reeled at his endearment and butterflies fluttered to life in my belly, betraying me. I’d be a fool to believe him.
But exhausted, I didn’t protest as he called Walker to give him Steven’s full name, and I provided his last known address. Brodan wanted him found, he told Walker, but he’d explain everything later when he saw him. After the call, Brodan insisted I put my feet up to read his script while he cooked. If it surprised me that the man knew how to cook, I hid it. Just as I hid my bemusement.
Just as I hid from the truth.
That as I sat there in my sitting room, reading a wonderful script that made me laugh, cry, and swoon, written by the man making dinner in my kitchen … I felt something close to safe for the first time in eighteen years.
25
Brodan
There was no snow on the ground, but it didn’t matter. Ardnoch was like a Christmas postcard. I surveyed the street fair that had been set up in the dark hours of the morning and took in the strands upon strands of fairy lights, the faux snow–dusted, red-and-green stall coverings, the winter-bundled customers, and the smell of crisp, smoky air, mulled wine, and hot doughnuts. Waiting outside Monroe’s door, I experienced a contentment I hadn’t felt in a long time.