Page 38 of Depraved

He gently shushes me as he wipes away more tears from my cheeks.

“But why lie to me? Why pretend to be someone else?” An echo of my anger over his deception flutters in my chest. “I suffered for years thinking I was a murderer. I would’ve done anything to take it back. You could’ve told me the truth instead of pretending to be Bones.”

His cheeks flush again. “Everything I told you about making my fortune in the ring was true. I did bad things. I didn’t want to come back to you as that broken boy. When I had enough money, I fixed my face for you. I became the man you deserved.” He shakes his head. “But that was a lie I told myself. I’ve never deserved you. I don’t think I ever will, but I can’t bring myself to leave you. I belong with you.”

My fingers flex against his chest, as though I can grasp his heart in my hand and hold him impossibly close.

“I didn’t know Rand. I was falling for him, but I didn’t love him. Maybe I would have one day, but the devotion scared me. It didn’t make sense.”

His features tighten with anguish. “Will you ever love me again?”

My soul tugs towards his. “I want to,” I admit on a ragged whisper. “But I don’t know if I can trust you anymore. There are so many lies between us now. I know I hurt you when I shot you, but you hurt me, too, Brandon. The nightmares about what I did to you…”

My vision blurs, and he pulls me into a warm embrace.

He’s so much bigger than he used to be when we were seventeen. His arms are strong and corded with muscle, and his chest is hard beneath my cheek.

“Forgive me,” I beg on a broken sob.

He strokes a broad hand up and down my spine. “There’s nothing to forgive. Nothing that happened is your fault.”

I ache to believe him, but years of guilt are too heavy to dispel with a few words.

His body flexes around me. “If I could kill Carter myself, I would’ve done it a thousand times over. I would’ve made it slow.”

I shiver at the memory of Carter’s blank, lifeless stare.

“Does that scare you?” Brandon asks. “That I want to make him scream for trying to rape you? For tearing us apart for years?”

I shake my head and lean into him. “I’m not scared of you. But he’s not the only one who separated us. You should’ve come back to me so much sooner. You should’ve told me the truth years ago. I wouldn’t have cared what you looked like. Nothing would’ve changed how I felt about you.”

He tenses. “But your feelings are changed now?”

I hold him tighter, even as I admit, “I’m scared to trust you again.”

His elegant fingers trail through my hair. “I know. You need time. I understand you, Karolina.”

Yes, he understands me like no one else.

It’s terrifying how badly I want to tell him I still love him. That I’ve always loved him.

But he’ll have to earn my trust back. No matter how desperately I want to be with Brandon—the first love I thought I lost forever—I can’t simply tear down the protective walls around my heart. They’re too solid to crumble so easily; they’re all that’s kept me safe and able to function ever since my parents died.

I become aware of warmth on my shoulder. It’s not my own tears.

Brandon is still bleeding.

I hurt him. Again.

My heart twists, and I force myself to pull away from the miracle of his embrace.

“You’re hurt,” I murmur, gently brushing his cut brow.

He leans into my touch rather than flinching away from the pain.

“We need to clean this up,” I insist. “You should see a doctor.”

He fixes me with a steady, mismatched stare. “We’re not leaving this estate until I eliminate whoever is threatening you. I have a first aid kit at the house. I know how to patch myself up.”