“And I think you see only the good in people.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look at you. You’re always so positive. Wanting to believe people are truly good. But they aren’t.”
She didn’t know where all of this was coming from. “I’m not some Pollyanna.”
“Yes, you are. You’re all smiles and sunshine.”
She hadn’t meant to mislead him. “I’m human just like you. I have my share of doubts and worries. I just try not to dwell on them.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Don’t do that. Don’t make me out to be like someone up on a pedestal.”
“Then tell me that you aren’t doing everything you can to convince yourself that I’m innocent. Go ahead. Deny it.”
“But my aunt—”
“She was probably in shock. She probably hadn’t even understood what had happened. The only thing she could think about was her love for you.”
She shook her head, refusing to believe his version of events. “Now that I’ve gotten to know you, I just can’t believe you would be reckless with your life and that of others.”
“But see, that’s the point. I have been in the past. I’ve bought super cars and I’ve taken them out on the road to see how fast they could go—to push the envelope. Doesn’t that make me reckless?” When she couldn’t argue with him, she remained quiet. His gaze implored her to affirm his actions. “Go ahead, say it.”
“No.” She wasn’t going to help convict him when there wasn’t any evidence. Because if he were guilty—if he did act recklessly—she would have lost not one but two people that she cared deeply about in that accident.
“Gabrielle, you can’t bury your head in the sand and pretend the accident didn’t happen. The reality is my nightmares grow stronger every night. You have to accept that—that I’m responsible for what happened. No amount of positivity will be able to overcome the fact that I—I killed your aunt.”
Each word he threw at her was a blow at her heart. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
* * *
Deacon hated hurting her.
But he didn’t have a choice. More of his memories were starting to come back to him. He remembered being in the car. He recalled the blinding headlights headed straight for him. The rest was bits and pieces, but he couldn’t shake the guilt mounting within him.
And now he was making a mess of things with Gabrielle. He’d only wanted to help her. He should have done it from a distance. Bringing her here to his estate was his first mistake. The second mistake was getting caught up in her greenish-gray eyes and letting himself be drawn in by her pouty lips. Now he had to untangle the ties that bound them together. It was best for Gabrielle.
He cleared his throat. “I never should have let things get this far. You and I need to part now, before either of us gets hurt.”
“Are you saying you never cared? That this thing between us is all in my imagination?”
Why did she have to make this harder on herself? He couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear—not if he wanted her to leave, if he wanted to save her from more pain.
“It was fun and nice.” He glanced away, unable to stand the hurt reflected in her eyes. “But it wasn’t real. It would never last.”
His phone vibrated again. What in the world was going on? His email was busier than ever. Using his phone as an excuse not to face the pain he’d caused Gabrielle, he pretended to check it. In truth, he couldn’t care less about business right now—right when he was sending away the woman that he’d come to care about deeply—
The breath caught in his throat as his gaze strayed across a bit of news. There was a distorted picture of him with ugly scars, next to a photo of Gabrielle. The headline read, The Beast Wins Beauty?
“What is it?” Gabrielle asked. When he didn’t respond, she asked again, “What’s the matter?”
He ignored her as his gaze skimmed down over the slanderous piece of trashy journalism. The fact that Gabrielle was quoted in the article stabbed him in the chest. Each breath was painful.
All this time, he’d thought she was so amazing with her ability to see the good in him. At first, he hadn’t wanted to believe in her generous heart, but she’d worn him down and snuck past the wall around his own heart. And it’d been a lie. All of it.
“Deacon, I’m getting worried. What’s wrong?”