Better With You (Better Love 2)

Prologue

Betrayal.

That’s what comes first. A painful, bottomless black pit rips open in my stomach, festering, stretching wider and wider until my body bends from the weight of it.

Then hatred. A blazing anger erupts in my chest, licking white hot flames around my heart and lungs, as my breaths grow ragged, and my eyes burn.

It’s enough to consume me, to drive me mad, but it’s doused quickly by a dark sense of despair. A soaking wet blanket covering all of my senses and stealing the light, rendering me lost.

I try to work through it, try to struggle my way out, but then anguish is joined by guilt. An iron fist wrapping around my throat as black dots blink in and out of my vision, and it hurts to breathe. It hurts to move. It hurts to exist.

Betrayal. Hatred. Despair. Guilt.

Separate attacks, but quickly they join forces until I am one raging battlefield of chaotic emotions, threatening to take my logical mind under siege.

I’m seeing red and the sound of blood rushes through my ears. I want to scream, cry, run. I want to hide. Under the surface, I’m a mess.

I fight to keep my face neutral, to remain steady and appear calm, but all I can see is the date on the calendar. All I can think of is the deadline I won’t reach, and the promise I’m going to have to break.

I let my guard down. I let someone in. And in doing so, I let him down. The only person worthy of everything good, and I’ve let him down. Again.

Tears burn the backs of my eyelids, welling up and threatening to spill, but I won’t let them fall. I’ve had years of practice turning my outside to stone.

The man beside me shifts, and I can feel his attention on me. His pleading gaze with his dark, chocolate brown eyes. I see his hands moving in my peripheral as his big fingers fidget, and despite his size, the movement is delicate. I know how those hands feel on my skin. I know how soft his touch can be.

I try to fight it, the way my heart clenches and aches. I try to focus on my anger, on the betrayal. I try to keep my sadness for the boy I’ve let down.

But deep down, I know the truth.

Underneath the fury, buried under the newfound hatred, is loss.

Loss and longing.

Mourning for the man beside me, the man I thought I knew. The man who is not at all who he led me to believe he was.