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I put my hand over Kayden’s and hold her stomach with her. Somewhere in there is a baby. It’s a miracle, and one I doubt will ever happen to me. If anything, this mess with Gabby has shown me that there’s no way I’m going to have a relationship. In the end, Gabby saw me just like Dad and Dom did—too weak to be the man she needed.
“Are you going to be okay, Tom?” Kayden asks. When I look at her, I can see the worry on her face. I force myself to smile.
“Yeah…”
She hugs me tighter. “I’m going in and getting us some milk and cookies like we had when we were little and were upset,” she announces.
“Oreos?” I laugh.
“You know it! Double Stuf even,” she says with a wink. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch her walk away, and I doubt she’d appreciate that she helped me make up my mind, but she did. It’s time Dom finds out just how much he’s been played.
With that, I text the two people I don’t want to see and ask them to meet me. I make sure I tell them to be there thirty minutes apart. I don’t want Dom showing up too soon. I also make it clear to Gabby if she doesn’t meet me, I’ll tell everyone all the shit she’d rather keep quiet.
It’s time to set things right. Who the hell knows what will happen after that.
Chapter 11
Thomas
I purposely showed up late. I wanted Gabby to worry. Hell, I want her to hurt, but I don’t think that’s possible, at least not when it comes to me. I decided to have her meet me at the park by the dam. I loved this place, but Dom sought me out here. He wanted to hash this shit out here, so I might as well give him what he wants.
I thought I was prepared. I truly did. I thought I would be able to control my emotions when I faced her. I imagined myself calling her a lying bitch over and over in my head, and each time, I could imagine feeling nothing but satisfaction at finally being able to call her out. Maybe that’s why I’m not prepared for the anger that burns so hot within me that it almost makes me blind to everything but the source of it.
Her.
“Why?” I bark out, the word so full of rage that my insides feel raw.
Gabby turns around and looks at me, tears streaking her makeup, looking completely lost. Those tears aren’t for me, though. None of her tears have ever been for me. Bitterness is welling up inside of me, and when I look at the woman that I’ve loved my whole life—one I thought had feelings for me—hate overwhelms any emotion I ever had connected with her.
“Thomas,” she sniffles, trying to dry her eyes although more tears fall. They’re probably fake, much like the rest of her.
“Wh-why did you let me think you c-cared for me?”
“I do care for you,” she argues.
“I s-saw you, G-Gabby. You and Dom. Re-remember?” I respond, hating that my stutter seems to be coming back more and more. I had it mostly under control with therapy and the medication. It makes me feel self-conscious and weak, and that’s not what I want others to see—especially right now.
“I’m sorry. I never meant for you to see that. It never should have happened,” she says, and maybe she’s trying to appear innocent, but we both know she’s not.
“If you and Dom are in l-love, then why did y-you l-et me touch you? Why t-t-touch me? W-was it pity?”
I didn’t mean to ask that. I hate that I did. That’s the one thought that has replayed in my mind since I saw her and Dom together. Is the only reason she made out with me, the only reason she let me touch her because she felt sorry for me?
“Tom—”
“Thomas,” I snap. I walk over to her, not because I want to be near her, but because I want her to see me. Me. “My n-n-name is Thomas. You kissed me. You let m-m-me touch you. You wr-wrapped y-your hand a-round my d-d-dick, and the whole t-t-time it was m-m-my brother you w-w-wanted?” I spew, grabbing her roughly by the arms.
“It wasn’t like that,” she cries.
“Then what was it like, Gabby?” my brother asks, coming out into the open. For as long as I can remember, Dom has been my person. Right now, I can’t stand to look at him either. He hid his relationship with her. He did it knowing how I feel—because of how I felt.
“Dom,” Gabby gasps, her face going white. “Thomas, what did you do?” she accuses me. All I can do is let out a small laugh that has no humor, just an overabundance of hate.
