Page 34 of Bombshell

“I don’t,” she says, wisdom twinkling in her smile. “Good luck.”

Good luck? Nah. I’m done with luck. I’m done with her. Some things don’t need to be said like goodbyes to ex-girlfriends, and some questions don’t need answers like why you betrayed someone you loved. The answer to that is simple: you can’t betray someone you love. You can only betray someone who means nothing to you. Maybe Adair thought she loved me. Maybe I was just some romantic idea to her—the bad boy she wanted to save. I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s time to be done with her, with this town, with hoping my luck will change. From now on, I’m looking out for myself. There’s no one else to worry about. I decide my own fate from this day forward.

12

Sterling

The Present

I fold up the sheet, painfully aware of how the light paper feels heavy in my trembling hands, and tuck it back in the book. Then I place it back in the box—next to a pair of over-sized flip-flops I bought in another life. “I need to go.”

“Sterling, I'm sorry. I...” Adair begins. She takes one step toward me, her green eyes wide with panic as a million scenarios play out on her face. Fear and hope and desperation and sadness.

And suddenly, I understand the woman standing before me now in a way that I never have before—in a way, I never realized she needed to be understood. And finally, I understand what's really at stake.

Turning away from her, I unknot the sash at my waist and shuck the robe from my shoulders. I hear every word she's not saying. They hang in the air between us—unspoken and unsatisfying. I don't trust myself to look at her. Not yet. I don't know if it takes me a minute or an hour to get dressed. I'm too absorbed in every motion, coaching myself through each button, each tuck, each knot. When I finally stand from lacing my shoes, I force my gaze up to where she stands like a statue next to a room service cart piled with cold food.

But statues don't cry, and there are tears in Adair's eyes. Part accusation and part heartbreak, looking at her rips a hole in my chest and exposes the missing piece of it I didn't know existed. I've carried a hole in my heart for years. I thought it was down to losing her. Now I know what I really lost when I left all those years ago.

And now I know why Adair's walls were so high when I came back, why she tried to stop me from scaling them, why she was scared to let me breach them. She couldn't let me back into the places she'd carved for me in her heart. That space no longer existed. I couldn't be the person she loved most in the world.

“I need to go,” I repeat. Can't she see that? Can't she understand why?

Her head bows in defeat, a single tear falling freely through the air.

Sometimes, I forget that for a woman who was born with everything, there's one thing money has never bought her: forgiveness.

I cross to her, closing the distance between us in three long strides. Folding her in my arms, I pull her against my chest. Even this close, her body remains rigid. She's holding on to all of it: the truth, the secrets, the pain. I can't take that away from her. Not yet. I can only give her something else to cling to for now.

“I love you,” I whisper into her hair. “Nothing changes that, but I have to go.”

A choked sob escapes from her throat, and she sinks her fingernails into my forearms. “I can explain,” Her voice cracks. “I should—”

“No,” I stop her. I grip her chin and tilt her face to mine. Tears flow freely now—two currents pulling her into the past and threatening to take me with her. “There's nothing to explain.”

“But—”

“I want to know,” I reassure her, brushing away her tears with my thumb. “I want to know everything that you want to tell me. But you don't owe me shit, Lucky. Not an apology. Not an explanation.”

“How can you say that?” She shakes her head, her copper waves slipping over her shoulders. “Why don't you hate me?”

“Isn't it obvious? I've never hated you. That's why.” My palm rests on her cheek, hoping she understands what I finally do. “Love doesn't come with conditions. Not true love. Not our love.”

“Don't leave.”

I hear what she's really saying: don't abandon me. Don't walk out the door and disappear. Don't leave again.

I want to give Adair everything she deserves, but I can't stay. Not today. I gently pry her fingers off my arms and step away. I can't explain it to her. Not yet. An hour ago, Adair MacLaine was the most important person in the world to me.

She can't be anymore.

“I love you,” I repeat as if saying it can numb the pain of what comes next for either of us. But I feel the anguish anyway, stretching taut between us with each step I take away from her—from the life I'd let myself imagine, from the life I'd decided to fight for, from the life that's no longer possible. I can only hope that whatever comes next doesn't break this thread that connects her to me. I have to believe that on the other side of this battle, there's something better waiting—for all three of us.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I remember that my car is blocks away. My hand pauses mid-knock. I can't go back yet. I can't risk facing her, even if it's only to ask for her car keys. Instead, I walk down the hall and pound on Luca's door.

“Be home, be home, be home,” I mutter, continuing to bang on the suite.

Muffled cursing comes from the other side, but I don't stop knocking. The door flies open. “What in the actual fuck?” he growls. Instantly, his expression turns from annoyance to confusion. “What's up, brother? Christ, I thought housekeeping had gone feral. Come in.”