Page 113 of My Beautiful Sin

My chest tightens, but I don’t say anything.

“I know you still trust me,” he continues “And I know that’s a start.”

“I don’t,” I say.

He turns and walks through the bedroom door, then pauses to look back at me. “Lie to me all you want, but don’t lie to yourself.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m left standing there cursing him because he’s right. I do trust him.

But that doesn’t mean I know what to do now.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“And you just walked away,” Ronan said, pacing in front of Devlin’s desk. “Walked away and left her there?”

Devlin rubbed his temples and looked up at his friend. He’d called both Ronan and Reggie after leaving Ellie’s house. He was certain El wouldn’t do anything—wouldn’t confront them, wouldn’t tell Lamar or any other troublemaking official—but they still deserved the courtesy of knowing that the veil had been lifted.

That’s what he’d thought when he made the call, anyway. Now, as Ronan’s booming voice edged his already throbbing headache up a notch, he wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to wait a day. He’d come here to his office in order to occupy his mind so that he wouldn’t keep running the memory of El’s shocked and furious face through his head like a damn gif, the same image playing over and over and over again.

But now that Ronan was here, his betrayal was all Devlin could think of.

Because he had betrayed her.

Not because of who he was or what he did. No, his conscience was clean. Devlin wouldn’t ever lose sleep over taking out men like Lorenzo Bell and Terrance Myers.

No, his betrayal was in not trusting her from the beginning. Holding his secrets close because he feared that he’d lose her after only just getting her back. Fear that the gap between them would be too wide to breach.

And maybe it would be.

He dragged his fingers through his hair then pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe it would be.

He’d made a judgment call by not telling Ellie the full truth earlier, and it had been the wrong decision.

He owed her the truth. The romance of their youth had been built on a lie, and he’d walked back into her life and done the same goddamn thing because he’d been a coward. Too afraid that if he told her the truth from the get-go, he would lose her right then. He’d been greedy, wanting time with her. Believing that the strength of their relationship would overcome his deception.

But how strong could that relationship be when he’d built it on sandcastles?

He’d fucked up. He knew that.

He’d made a huge mistake.

And now he was going to do everything in his power to get her back. To convince her.

He’d win—he had to win, because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her—and they’d move forward together in the light rather than the smoky mire of the secrets he’d been keeping.

He wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose her.

And so he simply refused to acknowledge the possibility of failure.

Maybe she thought the gap between them was as wide as an ocean, but she was wrong. It was only a small stream, and she’d make her way across to his side. He just had to give her time.

“For fuck’s sake, Devlin,” Ronan said, once again interrupting his thoughts, “she has that video. Our pictures are on it. The goddamn FBI could come storming into the foundation any minute.”

He looked up into his friend’s stern face. “That won’t happen.”

“Really? You’re so sure?”

“I am.” The words hung between them. More than just a statement, they were a promise. A benediction. “I know her,” he said. “I know who she is and what she believes in.”