Page 105 of Heart Over Heels

“It’s my home,” Darby continued. “It’stheirhome. This is everything we have, and now it’s…” Again, he gazed past me into the wreckage, and his eyes shone with tears.

I’d never seen him cry.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, reaching for him.

He jerked back, and in the span of a blink, the fragility was gone.

“You tricked me,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to?—”

“Youliedto me.”

“Darby—”

“I trusted you!” His voice rose again, hoarse, ragged. “Do you know…” He trailed off, shaking his head as his expression twisted into one of disgust. “Do you know how stupid I feel right now?”

The shine returned to his eyes, and I couldn’t stand it. I stepped toward him, needing to hold him, to fix this. To do anything other than stand there and watch him hurt.

But I collided with his hands. Both palms hit my chest in a shove that threw me off balance, and I fell back. Pavement cracked against my tailbone, and pain reverberated up my spine. I stared at him from the ground, stunned in more ways than one.

A shadow of regret flickered across Darby’s face, but it was swiftly replaced by searing anger. His tail tip twitched like a snake’s warning rattle.

“Get out,” he said. “You’re fired. And banned.”

The words hit harder than the shove.

“Jesus, Darby…” I murmured, breathless again. “I didn’t… I was trying to protect…”

His nostrils flared through a slow inhale and slower exhale, but he didn’t say another word.

The verdict had been rendered.

I sat on the ground for several seconds, long enough to feel the sense of loss sinking bone deep. Then I pushed myself to standing.

My gaze drifted to Beck, who had ended his phone call and now lingered a few feet away. His yellow eyes swept over us, trying to make sense of this ugly scene. I owed him an explanation too. And an apology. But I wasn’t sure I’d get the chance to give either.

I’d done enough damage already.

I looked back at Darby. The love I had for him—and, fuck, itwaslove—thrashed in my chest. This might be the last time I ever saw him, and the thought left me dizzy.

“Okay,” I said softly. Uselessly. A bandage over a bullet hole. Then I said it again. “Okay.”

My steps across the parking lot felt slow and heavy, and each one made something inside me buckle a little more. My bike sat facing the street, black paint glossy and golden in the afternoon sun.

Before climbing on, I paused and turned.

Darby was still there.

Arms crossed. Jaw tight and unyielding.

Throwing my good leg over the motorcycle, I settled onto the seat and gripped the handlebars.

I didn’t look back again.

CHAPTER

THIRTY