Page 105 of Bend (Bend & Break Duet 1)

Why does he want to help me?

He didn’t care. He’d told me so when he’d dumped me.

His words had been cruel, but his actions now said something different.

Even when things were just physical, there wasn’t a distance in his touch.Fire. Every trail of his fingers over my body was the caress of a man who wasn’t indifferent. Not of one who was just using me. No one had ever touched me the way he did.

And if I was honest, I hadn’t forgotten his earlier words. When he’d asked me if I’d had a good life, accomplished what I’d wanted, was happy in London. But that final line had knocked all the breath from my lungs.

Then I didn’t make a mistake.

Surely he wasn’t suggesting that he let me go so I could accomplish things in life. I could have done that with him by my side. But did he think that? That he wasn't enough . . . for me.

Father nudged me in the back, an order to go to Alex.Shouldn’t he at least meet me halfway?

Instead, I was expected to go to him like the dutiful girl I was. The woman in me rebelled.

I should’ve taken my old escape route off the roof while I’d been up there talking to Cal. But the thought of Lincoln and Teague destroyed over losing who they loved stopped me cold.

You can do this. For them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Davenport. Alex.” I couldn’t force the lie that it was lovely to see them out of my mouth. Because it was the ugliest thing I’d ever witnessed.

The doorbell rang, a powerful pong of chimes unlike an average doorbell. Because the Hollingsworth house wasn’t meant to be like others.

“Late. As usual.” There was a hint of pride in my father’s voice I didn’t understand.

Winston led my brothers into the parlor. Teague looked miserable. He hated this house as much as Lincoln and I did. Maybe more.

I was grateful to see Lexie and Pepper weren’t with them.

I rushed over to them, hugging them a little too hard.

“Why does this feel like a funeral parlor?” Teague whispered.

“Because this house is a tomb,” I whispered back, feeling normal for just a minute.

I couldn’t remember the last time all three of us had been here together. But it was a relief. When they’d moved out and I’d been here on my own with Father for a couple years, it had been almost unbearable. They’d made living in this house more tolerable.

“Then why do you choose to stay here?” Lincoln asked.

I cut my gaze to his. He knew I didn’t choose it.

“You’re staying here?” Teague gaped at me in disbelief.

“Winston, the champagne, please.” Father steered me toward the Davenports and beckoned my brothers over. “I believe you know my sons, Lincoln and Teague.” His introduction held a note of respect that we all knew to be false.

The act of happy family had grown so tiresome.

Teague, Lincoln, and I were happy. But we were miserable around our father.

Handshakes exchanged and murmured greetings. The air was awkward and stale.

How was I going to convince my brothers I was excited about marrying Alex when I couldn’t bring myself to even stand next to him?

Winston rounded the room with a silver tray of champagne flutes bubbling with the muted gold liquid. I’d always liked the color and the bubbles, though now it brought me no comfort.

Automatically, I took a glass, though I didn’t sip. I was already on edge, and the thought of any food or drink made me ill.

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