Page 15 of Hot Shot
How does a dead woman, a woman I hate—will always hate—have the power to ruin me?
So much about my relationship with Celeste was bullshit.
Most of it was bullshit.
Only I hadn’t had a clue, had I?
I’d believed her. Believed the story she told.
I didn’t understand it, how I’d let it happen, why I’d done it when my heart had been Blake’s.
It wasn’t until after everything had imploded, after she’d ruined the one good thing in my life, that I finally understood the lengths Celeste had gone to in a bid to get what she wanted.
And what she wanted wasn’tme.
It was what I could give her.
Money.
Celebrity.
The trap had been sprung and I’d been oblivious to it. Until the darkest moment of my life when she slapped me in the face with the truth.
A truth my heart still can’t believe.
My brain knows it to be true. The science backs that knowledge up, but my heart…
My heart bleeds and aches in a way I’m not sure can ever be repaired.
The door creaks behind me and I brace myself, suck in a deep breath to clear my head of the past and prepare for my future—for the sight of Blake.
“Hey. Why are you out here in the cold?”
“Enjoying the sunrise.”
“God, it’s cold! Aren’t you freezing?”
I am. But it’s part of my punishment. Part of the penance I’ve made myself endure for all the mistakes I made. All the people I hurt. All the things I could have done different and didn’t.
“Not too much. Nose, toes, and fingers.”
“Jeez. You’re not wearing a coat. Fucking hell, Bran, your feet are bare. You’ll get frostbite!”
“It’s not that bad. I’m used to it.”
“You do this every morning?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Okay. Well, I’m not freezing my ass off out here. I’m going in to make breakfast. You want something? Coffee?”
“There isn’t any.”
“What? Food?”
“No. There’s food. Eggs and bacon, pancake fixings in the pantry. But there’s no coffee.”
“You don’t have coffee?” she questions, her confusion clear.
