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“Maybe I do,” he snapped. “So let’s both admit I’ll never be what you need. We had fun, right? But we were neveractually together. Since you don’t want my help and would rather get it from your shithead ex, and since I apparently don’t trust you, we might as well end it right now.”
She stared at him. Her face drained of color and her eyes glittered.
He turned away. Shame and anger scorched him from the inside out.
He suddenly hated his warped view of love, every shitty secret, all his jagged mistrust. He hated that Brooke had helped him figure out how to make John Kane express his love, while Sam—the man who’d created the goddamned character—still didn’t know what the hell it looked like in real life or how it could fix anything.
He hated the walls he’d built around himself, and he really fucking hated epic romances and Brooke’s perfect man who “whispered sweet nothings” and declared his undying love for her every chance he got.
While Sam couldn’t even say itonce.
He’d known from the beginning that she deserved everything she’d ever wanted from love and relationships. Wanting to be with her forever wasn’t enough. Feelings weren’t actions. But there was one action he could take.
“Go to New York, Brooke.” He turned to the door. “Start your new life. Find what you’ve been looking for with someone else because I sure as hell can’t give it to you.”
He walked back out into the dusk. For the first time ever, he felt his heart break.
