Page 86 of Sin for You

Dane’s head tilted to the side, gaze intense. “Someone broke her heart, apparently. She’s even stayed over at the guesthouse a couple of nights this week, sleeping in that room you stayed in the night of the party. Doesn’t want to be on her own.”

I locked my knees so I didn’t fall on my ass. “Broke her heart?”

“I’ve heard her crying through the wall,” Dane said.

“Crying?” I choked.

My girl had been crying, and I’d caused it? I thought I was dead inside before. Obviously not, because how could you bleed out if you were already a corpse? I’d hurt her when that was what I’d been trying to avoid.

Oh God.

Oh fuck.

I’d hurt her.

“Just thought you should know that,” Dane said and opened the door. He looked back at me. “There’s nothing you could have done to stop me from doing what I did. Not any of it.” He swallowed, looking pained. “You know that, right?”

I stood motionless.

“Nothing that’s happened to me, to us, to our family, could have been prevented, not by you, not by any of us. And my fuckups, they’re my own. I need you to know that.” Then he walked out.

And I was left stunned for the second time that night.

* * *

Quinn

My house was quiet, too quiet.

The drippy faucets Mase had fixed downstairs weren’t dripping anymore, but one of the upstairs faucets had started, and that’s all I could hear.

Usually after work, in the last few months after my shifts at the bar, I looked forward to coming home to a silent house. But those quiet moments weren’t as enjoyable anymore.

Not since spending time with Bull.

I squeezed my eyes closed, refusing to look at my phone and read the text I’d gotten from Bevan this morning again, and finished washing my face. Then I brushed my teeth, put on my pj’s, a big soft sweater, and headed back downstairs. I wasn’t tired, so might as well watch a movie.

Apparently, Bevan had found true love with Tonya, and they’d gotten married in Costa Rica. Which was funny, in a stick-a-fork-in-your-eye-and-twist-it kind of way, since that was where I’d wanted to honeymoon and Bevan had said no. Anyway, he’d wanted to tell me the happy news himself to soften the blow.

Then he’d proceeded to list all the reasons why we wouldn’t have worked anyway.

I wasn’t giving enough.

I didn’t understand him.

I was too clingy.

I didn’t know how to read him in bed.

Whatever the hell that last one meant.

My fault, all of it. He was forced to cheat because I was a sucky fiancée? Did he think that would make me feel better? No. He was trying to appease his guilt, or maybe it was payback for ruining his suits and throwing out his car keys.

I didn’t bother replying and blocked his number.

Thanks for that, Bevan, you weasel dick, jerk-faced prick.

Thanks so much for sharing.