Page 167 of Ruin My Life
“You know what?” I say, stepping behind her. “Yes.”
She flinches.
Hurt flickers in her eyes before she tries to lean forward, like she’s putting distance between us.
But I don’t let her.
I press in, slow but firm, until her back is flush to my chest. My arms cage her in, hands gripping the top rail on either side of her.
She tenses, but she doesn’t run. Doesn’t fight.
“I’m keeping my eye on you,” I whisper into her ear, “because if I sent you somewhere else and the Songbirds found you—if theyhurtyou—and I wasn’t there…”
My jaw clenches.
I breathe through the gravel in my throat.
“I couldn’t fucking handle that, Brie. It would ruin me.”
The silence that follows isbrutal.
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
My heart thunders in my ribs like it’s trying to break free.
I don’t know if she’s going to lash out, retreat, or throw herself over the edge just to prove a point.
If she did, I’d follow her without thinking. I’d wrap my body around hers and hit the rocks first if it meant she’d walk away breathing.
That’s how far gone I am.
And she doesn’t even know it.
“I don’t deserve this,” she breathes, shaking her head. “The only reason we met is because I nearly exposed all of this to your worst enemies. Your mom—I could’ve gotten her—”
“What was your first thought,” I cut in gently, “when you realized I owned property in Rhode Island—private property I was trying to keep hidden—what was your first thought?”
She looks back out at the waves like she’s trying to rewind time. It’s only been a few weeks, but the distance between then and now feels like years.
“I thought…” she starts, slow and hesitant, “that it might be the kind of thing someone could use against you. But I also figured you were protecting someone here, though I wasn’t sure who.”
She swallows hard.
“I told myself that even though you were a Songbird, there was a chance whoever lived here wasn’t. That they were innocent. So I deleted the address from the file I was planning to send to the person who hired me.”
Pride flares in my chest, hot and unrelenting.
She didn’t know me. But she still protected this. Protectedmy mother.
“That’s why you deserve this,” I murmur, pressing my lips to the crown of her head. “And why I’ll never deserve you,mi rosa.”
She shudders softly, and I pull her tighter, wrapping my coat around her like it might hold the pieces of her together better than she can on her own.
“Maybe you should’ve picked a sweater with less holes in it,” I say, brushing my fingers along the frayed edge of the cream knit clinging to the back of her neck.
Her breath hitches.
“I’m not that cold,” she says. “Winters in Alberta are a hundred times worse than this.”
