AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Finally, Brendan’s hands fell to his sides. He slumped to his knees, chest heaving, his breath ragged. His hair hung in his eyes, sweaty and damp and too fucking long because he’d been so drunk on Sonia that he’d never bothered to get it cut.
“Hey, man.” The first trainer approached him carefully, keeping a distance. “Everything okay?”
“Sure,” Brendan muttered. “Everything’s great.”
“You were punching that bag a really long time.”
“Well, beating the crap out of myself isn’t an option.”
“You all right?” The guy sidled back, nervous, but still hovering. “Do you need anything?”
Brendan rose onto his knees, shoving his hair off his forehead. Dragging his gaze up to the trainer, he didn’t smile. “A haircut.”
“Well, uh, there’s a shop nearby. I can give you directions. Whoa—”
He broke off as Brendan’s shoulders shook. To his horror, Brendan realized that his eyes were wet. Stinging. When he tore the gloves off and tossed them to the mat, a tear fell onto his hand. He stared at it like it was a foreign substance.
He had no memories of crying, even when he was very young.
His mom loved to brag about it:Brendan was such an easy baby! Always smiling, never crying. I swear he didn’t have a single tantrum when he was a toddler. Ian, on the other hand, practically destroyed our house.
The trainer gestured to the guy sitting at the front desk, who shook his head slightly while tightening his hand on the phone. Brendan could read his face in a heartbeat:Get that crazy guy out of here.
As he returned his gloves to the counter, both men watched him like he was a ticking bomb. This town was in his home district. In a few years, if he ran for Congress, he’d be knocking on doors, meeting people, talking to them. Would he knock on these men’s doors, smiling in a suit? Would they recognize him as the unhinged guy who broke down crying in the gym?
Brendan walked out to the parking lot, climbed into his car, and shut the door. Exhausted, he rested his head on the steering wheel. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his phone still lying on the floor mat.
Slowly, he picked it up. There were texts from the family about joining them for breakfast, from Ian saying to call so he wouldn’t worry on his honeymoon, from Diana.
I’m really sorry, Brendan. I had to tell her. I’d needed to tell her for a long time.
Nothing from Sonia.
Mechanically, he reminded his family that he had to head back to DC for work. He told Ian to stop thinking about anyone except Diana on their honeymoon. He told Di he understood.
Did he understand? Would he ever have told Sonia the truth?
He wanted to believe that he would have.
The ache of missing Sonia gripped his chest. Finally, he dialed her number. When the phone rang through to voicemail, he left a message.
“I’m sorry, Sonia. I always wanted to be honest with you. I promise, you can trust me.” His voice broke. “I won’t let you down again. Please, just let me make it up to you.”
Last night, in a soft, dark moment between the pegging and the fight at dawn, Sonia had told him a little about her parents. The promises they made and didn’t keep, the cycle of apologies that followed. The message he’d left sounded exactly like the empty excuses her parents made.
There was no way Sonia would respond to that.
Trying a different tack, he sent a text.
Can we talk?
But there was no answer. Not then, not during the drive home, and not for the rest of the day. When he turned out the lights in his Senate office at midnight, his silent phone accused him.
35
Tuesday
Two days after the wedding
