Betraying Her (Savage Brothers Second Generation 3)

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize who Thomas thought he was approaching that first night in the bar—or why there was so much anger on his face. It also doesn’t take a very smart person to figure out why he’s been keeping me around. She looks so much like me it’s scary—or I look like her, which I guess is how Thomas views it. Bile rises into my throat, but I swallow it down. I can feel tears stinging my eyes, but I force them away and summon up the anger I feel at a man who slept with me while imagining I was another woman—because that’s clearly what happened. It’s also the reason he’s pushing me away and thrusting me into the friend zone. I guess I didn’t live up to his memories of her…

“If you don’t help me, there’s no way Dom will take me back,” the woman whispers, sounding broken.

“Should have thought about that be-be-be-fore you let m-m-me g-g-g-get you off.”

“Thomas, please,” she says, and I watch as Thomas crosses his arms against his chest. She must see the resolution in his eyes, too, because she walks away.

Thomas slams the door. I take a breath. Then, with my purse clasped tightly to my chest, I step out into the living room.

“I guess I know now why you kept me hanging around, right?”

He doesn’t respond, but the guilt on his face is answer enough.

“Don’t worry about friend-zoning me, Thomas. I already came in runner up with my parents. I don’t need to be that to another person,” I mutter, giving him a wide berth as I walk around him.

“Lyla—”

“How could you encourage me to stay in your bed and then make love to me, when all this time, you were in love with another woman?"

“Fuck, Lyla….”

I stop him because his face is broadcasting guilt again, and I don’t want to hear his excuses. He has none.

“I guess I should be glad you called me by my name and didn’t call me Gabby, huh?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. Just sadness.

“D-damn it,” he growls, frustrated.

Proving I’m just a fool, I do something really stupid. “Give me a reason to stay, Thomas,” I whisper. “The slightest reason.”

Silence.

I turn away and walk out. I don’t have a choice.

Chapter 28

Thomas

Nothing has sounded worse in my life than the sound of the door closing as Lyla leaves. I fight myself to keep from going after her. I want to grab her and try to explain, but really… I have no explanation.

I knew if she ever found out about Gabby it would hurt her. It was just another reason that there was no way this was going to work out. That doesn’t mean I wanted it to end like this. Fuck, I wanted to find a way to keep Lyla in my life. Even as I have that thought, I recognize it as selfish. She deserves better than me. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I saw the pain on her face. I could kill Gabby for this shit.

Lyla is the one good thing in my life, someone who only saw me and nothing else. She’s the one person not connected to the shit that Gabby brings with her and now it has not only touched her, its exploded all around her.

I punch the wall with my fist, venting my anger. It breaks through the drywall with relative ease. I can barely feel the pain it brings. It also doesn’t make me feel one damn bit better. I want to call and check on her, but I don’t have that right. That’s when it hits me, and when it does, it hits like a fucking ton of bricks.

I never met her roommate. I never went into her dorm. I don’t know any of her friends. Fuck, I don’t even know her last name. I felt like shit before, but what kind of selfish son of a bitch doesn’t even care enough to find out the basics about a woman he cares for? The only way I’d know to find her is to go back to the college, and even then, I don’t know her last name. Lyla is a name that’s heard often, I imagine. There’s probably a lot of them enrolled at the school. I could become a stalker and look for her and track her down that way. The temptation to do it is strong.

One thing stops me.

I’ve hurt her enough. She doesn’t want to see me again, and I can’t blame her. Fuck, I can’t even manage to look at myself in the mirror anymore.

I flop down on the couch and close my eyes. Immediately, a vision of Lyla’s face springs forth, her eyes full of pain and hurt. I can literally hear the moans and sighs from last night in my ears, but eventually, they are drained out with the despair in her words just moments ago.