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Maybe she could love the darkness out of me. Everyone knows angels and devils don’t create fairy tales. But Bria isn’t an angel. So, maybe, just maybe…it could work.
But who knows if she’d take me back anyway?
24
Bria
Istare at the TV, unable to pay attention to what’s even going on. It’s late. Too late. But my mind won’t shut off. The sound of the rain pelting on my window isn’t helping either.
When I stopped in at the arena today to go over some details with the publicist for a few ideas we had come up with, she mentioned Brody had left town unexpectedly because his grandmother wasn’t doing well. I wanted to call or text—anything—just to check on him, but I was scared I’d only make his day worse. The way we had left things wasn’t great. And I’m probably the last person he wants to talk to.
When my cell phone starts buzzing on my nightstand, my heart drops. If someone is calling this late, something has got to be wrong. I pray it isn’t my mom or Kye, but then I don’t know if I should be relieved or worried when I see Brody’s name on the screen.
“Hello?” I whisper, not wanting to wake Tate up in the other room. Though I’ve learned that she sleeps like the dead.
“I’m downstairs,” his voice rasps. “Can I come in?”
I should tell him no. I should say,Go to hell. I’d be damn smart to remember how much this man has hurt me. But the desperation in his voice wins over me being spiteful. Ending the call, I run as fast as I can down the stairs and pull the door open.
He stands in the pouring rain, and when he catches sight of me, he completely breaks down, his eyes filling with tears as he shakes uncontrollably. And when I see his face, my heart feels like it’s been ripped to pieces.
“Brody,” I cry, pulling him inside. “What happened?”
Gently, I touch his face, and he cringes.
“I had to see you,” he barely whispers.
His lip is split, his nose cut every which way, and his eyes are black and blue. But it isn’t the bruises that are devastating. It’s the emptiness inside of his eyes. The sadness in his face as he looks completely lost. And when I pull him against me, I know he’s barely hanging on.
“I don’t know why I came here.” He shakes against me. “I just…I needed you, Bria. I need you so fucking bad.”
I release him, taking his hand and leading us toward the couch, where I curl up next to him.
I cup his face as gently as I can. “What happened?”
He doesn’t look directly at me, but instead straight ahead. “I never go home.”
I nod, but not really understanding. “I know.”
“My grandmother died,” he whispers. “I wish it were my old man instead.”
“Your dad did this?” I say softly, my entire body aching for this poor man.
“He would have killed me if Cam and Link hadn’t come in. He would have killed me, and I wouldn’t have stopped him.” He takes a breath. “Sometimes, I think it’d be better if he did.”
“Why?” I whisper. “Why would you think that, Brody?”
“Because I’m fucked up, Wildflower. Can’t you see that?” His eyes finally move to mine. “I’m weak. I couldn’t even fucking fight back. To a man who’s been the villain in my story since the day I was born. And I just…let him do this.” He waves to his face and body, though I can’t see the damage under his clothes. “I’m no good for anyone because I have his blood running through my veins. The blood of a monster is in my veins.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper. “You’re good for me.”
He shakes his head, his face twisting with grief. “How can you say that? If I had left you alone, you would be better off right now.” His eyes bore into mine. “You’re…you are fucking perfect, Bria.” He blinks, a few tears falling down his cheeks. “You don’t even know it either.”
“I’m not perfect.” I crawl into his lap. Careful not to hurt him. “But I love you. I want you. Every single part of you. Darkness, flaws…all of it.”
“And if you get tired of it? Of me fucking up? Or if I suck at being your man? If my anger gets the best of me and we fight?”
“Would you ever lay a finger on me, Brody?”
