Breaking Her (Savage Brothers Second Generation 4)

Prologue

Thomas

Six Weeks After Lyla Walked Out

I pick up my phone. It’s been six weeks without hearing Lyla’s voice or her laugh. I’ve moved back to Kentucky. I decided not to stay at the club. I found an apartment across town. It’s not much, but then again, the place in Virginia was worse. The difference is that I had Lyla’s company there.

She made everything better.

I’ve made a huge mess. I know I have. I handled everything wrong. I wanted to scream for her not to leave, and instead I let her go. The truth is, she deserves better. That doesn’t mean it’s not hurting like hell that she’s gone. I miss her laugh, and the way she’d yawn while trying to convince me she wasn’t sleepy. I miss the way she’d pick the toppings off her pizza, eating them separately before eating the crust. I miss the way she’d get all sappy over movies or scream out when something would scare her and then giggle because she felt silly. Hell, I even miss the way she’d sigh when I’d play with her hair.

Then, there are the things that I miss even more—like how she touched me without even realizing it, or how she said my name and the way the blue in her eyes deepened when I’d say hers. I miss how it felt to snuggle into her late in the night and fuck if I don’t miss the way she smells…

In such a short time, she’s sunk down inside of me, and I ache…wishing she was here.

That’s the only excuse I have as to why I’m picking up my phone to text her. I’ve resisted up until now. It’s one in the morning and she’s probably asleep, but I’ve drank a little too much and I just want to feel her close.

God, I’m a fucking loser.

Me: I’m sorry, Sunflower.

Lyla: That doesn’t really help, Thomas.

Me: I know. I still am, though. I never meant to hurt you. I’m surprised you answered me. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t.

Lyla: I wanted to talk to you about something or wouldn’t have. Why did you invite me into your life when you didn't have feelings for me?

Me: I did have feelings. You were my light. I was just in a bad place. You have to understand. I’ve been in love with Gabby for as long as I can remember. Finding out what she had done… I just needed someone to see me, to want me, I guess.

Lyla: So, you used me. I mean, I look like her, so why not, right?

Me: I’ll admit that’s why I came over to you, Sunflower.

Lyla: And that’s when you decided to use me.

Me: Damn it, it wasn’t like that—at least not completely.

Lyla: But you did use me. Admit it.

Me: I guess maybe I did to help me get over the pain of losing her. I know it was a shit thing to do, Sunflower. That’s why I let you go that day. I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I wanted. I knew it was best if we just ended things. I didn’t want you to get hurt in all this.

Lyla: Too late. How could you sleep with me in the same bed all this time, Thomas? Then, make love to me if you loved her? How? Was it all just because I looked like her?

Me: Nothing I say is going to make this better.

Lyla: I’ll take that as a yes.

I grimace, looking at my phone. There’s so much I want to say. I want to tell her that nothing about her reminded me of Gabby after I got to know her. I wanted to tell her that she was special and that I miss her. Just her. I know telling her all of that will just hurt her even more, so I let it go. Maybe it’s best for her to think she was just a replacement.

Me: What did you want to talk to me about?

I stare at my phone, but she doesn’t respond…

Lyla

I force myself to look at my phone as it vibrates. I shove my fingers against my face and wipe away the tears. They’re tears that Thomas doesn’t deserve. I can’t seem to stop them, though.

Thomas: What do you want to talk to me about?

I drop my phone back down on the mattress. He doesn’t deserve a reply. There’s no sense telling him my news now. I’m too weak to deal with him anymore. I’ve been in bed for almost a week off and on. Doing too much makes me so sick that I feel like I’m going to die. At first, I thought I might be.

Yesterday, I found out differently. My gaze goes to the small white stick on my nightstand. A pregnancy test… I guess while Thomas was busy imagining he was finally with his beloved Gabby, his fantasy didn’t include wearing protection—not that I can blame him entirely. I’ve been entirely too naïve about everything. I trusted Thomas implicitly. I was a stupid fool.