I don’t want to remember how loved I felt when I let my guard down and let him in, and how dangerously, terrifyingly free I felt in those moments when it was just us, and I wasn’t thinking about his family or mine.
And I don’t want to think about how my heart is breaking more with each moment that passes. How it shatters slowly as he turns around without a word and walks away.
I wait, my heart quivering in my chest, praying he won’t turn back. Hoping he will. If I see his face right now, I’ll break in a way that can never be healed.
There are moments when being part of a family, of any family, is the best feeling in the world. A feeling of happiness and belonging, of knowing someone will have your back no matter how wrong you are.
And there are moments when being part of a family is the worst feeling. A feeling of being suffocated and trapped, of knowing that if you do the right thing, they will no longer have your back. That you’ll become the enemy, and they’ll turn their back on you and ruin you as quick as any rival.
King puts an arm around my shoulders, and Royal puts one around my waist, and we watch Devlin Darling walk across the endless lawn alone. He doesn’t turn back. I swallow the ache of tears, the urge to cry his name, to run to him and wrap my arms around him in this moment when I have a whole army behind me, and he has no one. But when I so much as twitch, my brothers’ grip tightens, holding me together, holding me back. I am part of the fabric of the Dolce family, inextricably woven into it. I am a Dolce daughter. I am to remain poised at all times. I don’t run after boys and beg forgiveness. I don’t apologize for a well-played con.
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