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Chapter 43
Brody
“Ye would kill me?” I growl, pointing a stiff hand to my chest. A twinge of regret wrenches my gut, but I’d not go back to yesterday to right my wrongs. “Don’t fecking talk to me like that, lass. Have I ever threatened ye?”
With a stony expression, she yells, “You threaten my very sanity, Bro-dy.”
My hands scrub down my face. I’m not centered. Feck Justice Flower’s sanity. She did this to me. I’m off my fecking head over her. I’ll have bald patches in my beard on account of the lass.
“Erika means nothing to me. I told ye that! Calm down.”
She bites her mouth closed. Thank heavens. This is not bloody rational. Nuggets in relationships consent to this? I’ll never marry at this rate.
Justice whispers, “You don’t understand.”
At the sound of her voice and seeing the pain in her deep brown eyes, I feel like shite. I’m a bawbag. She looks fecking broken. Mam would kill me. If Justice were clan, feck, I’d kill the likes of me. Suddenly, I know. I’m aware that this dick, this beard, will not fix what we had. I fecked up.
Intense emotion radiates from Justice. “I’m a Black woman. At the bottom of the barrel, last to be appreciated. If you understood me, if you really knew me, you’d know it.”
Wit is she talking about? Bottom of the barrel? How do I respond to this?
With a heavy gulp, I say,“Nae, lass. Never say such a thing. I care for ye, Justice.”
She gives a humorless laugh, body curling into itself. “And guess what, Brody? I love you. That idiotic emotion came out of thin air—after all of Chevelle’s warnings.”
Her words floor me. I’ve heard the phrase and gone about my business. My palm goes to the wall. This is a low blow, a sucker punch.
“I didn’t need you to fall in love with me yet, Brody. All you had to do . . .” she rasps, her response drowned out by emotion. Heaving a sigh, she starts again, “All you had to do was put me first.”
“If ye would listen, Justice,” I reply in a firm, lowered voice. My hands are out. She has to see I’m fecking begging her.
Justice flinches from my touch. She might as well have stabbed me in the gut. “I have to do this for me clan, lass.”
I’ve been an arsehole to women a time or two. There were those stalkerish lassies, whom I never gave any sign that there could be more between us. Ye have to snap, yell at them, get them away from ye. But I’ve never felt like so much of a bawbag than this single moment.
Justice steps toward the sliding glass door, folds her arms, and looks outside.
I stop myself from going to her. If ever I needed the right thing to say, now’s the time. “It’s . . . it’s just an engagement.” Och, shite, way to fan the flames, bawbag!
Justice shifts around slowly, holding her head high, emotions reined in. Only the glitter in her eyes and the damp trail down her soft cheeks is proof that I did this. That I fecked up.
She nods. “I see, Brody. We just met. Your family takes precedence. I can’t be mad at you because of it. What I must come to terms with is that your family will always come first.”
“Nae.” I groan, shaking my head. The honest to God answer, Aye. Feck me. I’ll not stop lying to her. I’ll never stop desiring her either.
“No? Really?” Justice’s face is filled with disbelief, hope. Feck, I have nae idea. She saunters toward me. My palms linger on the lass’s hips, my mouth against her forehead.
“You will put me first one day?”
“That’s wit I said.” I’m the worst type of liar.
I taint her mouth with my own, kissing her deeply. My hands scoop around Justice’s waist, locking her into place. I steal all the kisses I can get, knowing the lass is smarter than my willingness to deceive her.
Justice struggles to be free of my arms. I clamp her jaw, deepening the kiss. Stop fecking thinking, lass. Ye were meant for . . . the wee bit of me I’m willing to give ye.
“Brody.” Justice’s voice breaks, breath sweeping across my chest. “Please, Brody. Please, please leave me alone.”
I inhale her hair. Despite myself, I need to remember this very second. The moment I made Justice Flowers cry and broke her beautiful heart so that I’ll never have a second chance.
I’ll not hurt ye any longer, hen.I drop my head, hands in my pocket, and grumble in defeat. “Aye.”
