Her goddamn father had saved his brother. "He'd had the power," he said finally, turning his head to look at her. "Your dad held my brother's life in his hands. And the fucker used that power to play puppet master and pull all three of our strings."
"I know," she said. "Believe me, I know."
"You should have told me. You should have trusted me enough to come to me with that. If not before, then at least after the Governor granted clemency."
"I wanted to--hell, I planned to. But then my dad told me that he'd found out about your record." She licked her lips. "All the stuff from after Richie was arrested, when you said you went off the rails." She swallowed audibly. "He said he was going to tell your producer, and it would be a scandal on social media, and they'd yank the show."
"Christ." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "You should have told me."
"That's the point. If I'd told you he would have held all that stuff over you. He would have destroyed you. Don't pretend I'm wrong. You didn't exactly advertise your past to the producers. I was there, remember? You kept telling me over and over that you had to come across as a guy folks related to."
"And people don't relate to kids from shit neighborhoods who have to scrape by," he retorted, his already on-edge temper flaring. "Who go a little nuts when their brother ends up on death row. Who skirt up against gangs and fight like hell not to get sucked all the way in. No, I guess most people don't relate to that."
She leaned forward and pressed a hand to his knee. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."
"No, you were afraid I'd lose the show, and we couldn't have that." He was talking out his ass, and he knew it. Anger and pain and years of regret fueling harsh words that he wanted to call back even as he spoke them. "A construction worker from the east side wasn't good enough for you."
Her palm flew out and struck him hard against the cheek.
"Fuck you, Spencer Dean. Fuck. You." Tears glistened on her lashes. "I was right beside you for years before that show was even a twinkle in your eye, but when it did spark, you wanted it, and don't you dare deny that, because I know. I know because I'm the one you told. And I was faced with a horrible, awful Hobson's choice, and I did what I thought was right, dammit."
"You protected me."
"Yes." She sniffled, then wiped her nose on her sleeve.
"You shouldn't be the one protecting me. I should be protecting you."
Her laugh bubbled out, the sound rough with tears. "Oh my God, what are you? A Neanderthal?"
"Where
you were concerned, yeah, I guess I was."
He saw a sparkle in her eyes, and the hint of a smile touch her lips.
"I should have been there," he continued, taking her hand, the connection electric. "You shouldn't have had to deal with all of that alone."
"Nice in theory," she said, as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Under the circumstances that would have been a little hard in practice." She met his eyes, her lips slightly parted, her breath coming hard.
"I'm sorry," he said, and though he wanted to say more, he couldn't. Not yet. He didn't need the words, he needed her. And so he pulled her to him, settling her on his lap, and lowering his mouth to hers. She met him greedily, teeth clashing, mouths searching, hands groping. He couldn't get enough of her. He wanted to claim her--had to claim her. Had to let her and her father and the whole damn world know that she was his, goddammit.
Roughly, he pulled her down until they were both on the ground, Brooke soft and yielding beneath him. His knee was between her legs, and he was as hard as stone. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling him more firmly against her.
He deepened the kiss, losing himself to the feel of her and the fantasy that, somehow, this moment could fix everything. As if there was magic in it, and if he could simply kiss her long enough or well enough, he'd never lose her again.
"Please," she said, her hands going to his fly.
He groaned and almost came right then--and in the same moment, his senses returned. They were on a fucking hill, in a city park. And as gorgeous as the sunset might be, there was nothing romantic about taking her in the dirt like a damned teenager with hormones on overdrive.
"How much do you want to see the sunset?"
"What?" Her voice was heavy, lost in a sensual haze.
"Leave now, we miss the sunset. Your choice."
"Screw the sunset," she said, making his heart swell. "Take me home."
Chapter Fifteen