Chapter 26
Brendan
Staring out the windowat the waves crashing into the beach, I run my fingers through my hair.
Asra didn’t get released from the hospital until late yesterday evening. She’s spent all night and all morning resting.
It’s my fault, all my fucking fault. I got carried away.Despite what she says, it’s still my fault.
I shouldn’t have taken things so far on the beach. I definitely shouldn’t have let us all fall asleep outside. But, fuck. Laying there, my head in her lap while her tiny feet caressed up and down my bare torso before toying with my waistline. Her bare thighs were so close to my face while those almost inaudible moans escaped her mouth. Hell, I could smell her arousal, feel the heat pouring off her pussy. Even a damned monk wouldn’t have been able to resist her.
Fuck, though.
If I had known it would end like this. I shake my head again. I’ve never been responsible for someone else before, never had to look out for another person’s well-being. An uneasy feeling washes over my gut as I think of all I put Breckin through.
“Stop beating yourself up,” he states, strolling into Asra’s living room and patting my shoulder, “it’s not your fault.”
“Like hell it’s not. It’s my –”
“Don’t even finish that thought. This is not on you. This is on me.”
“Then I guess it’s on both of us.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I turn to face him. I know what he’s trying to do. But it’s not gonna work this time. I’m not letting him take the blame just ‘cause he thinks he needs to baby me.
He nods. “How are you?”
Fuck.
Direct and to the point.
I glance back out at the waves before meeting his concerned stare. I can’t lie to him. Not to Breckin, he’ll see right through it. He always does.
“Not good.”
Another nod. “Are you –”
“No,” I cut him off, “I’m not there.” Not now. Not ever again. I might be in a bad place and worried out of my mind, but I’m never going back there. This time, I have something to fight for. Something real.
“If you –”
“I’m good.” I pat him on the shoulder, letting my words sink in. “How’s Asra?”
“She’s . . . She’s better.”
“Sleeping?”
“No.” From down the hall, the steady stream of the shower turns on. “Showering.”
“Bath?” I raise my eyebrows.
“I tried, but she insisted on taking an actual shower.”
I smile, just a little. That’s my girl. After over an entire day of her being out of it, it’s good to hear she’s finally up and moving.
Turning back to the window, I try to calm my emotions. The frothy waves crash against the shore, then recede, leaving a wet patch along the sand in their wake. I take a deep breath, imagining myself out there in the surf. She’s up and moving. That’s a start. Everything will be fine. Before I can relax too much, she strolls down the hallway. For a split second, she almost looks fine.