“You do,” he agrees.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around them, hugging myself.
“Why are you here?”
“I needed to know something . . . ” His head drops again, and the utter agony in his voice when he continues wrecks me. “The baby . . . ”
A broken whimper forces its way out of me.
“Was it even mine?”
The last thing I want to do is hurt Declan more than what I already have. I want to lie, tell him yes, tell him he was the only one I was sleeping with, convince him of my love.
But I can’t.
I don’t want to hurt him with the truth, but I also don’t want to comfort him with lies.
“I need to know,” he urges.
His eyes shine bright with tears I know threaten him, and I cowardly shake my head.
He takes a push back, widening the gap between us, and leans his head against the dresser.
“Why?”
“I wanted it to be,” I tell him as I begin to cry from what was stolen from me.
“So it was Bennett’s baby?”
“I don’t know.”
Confusion strikes his face. “What does that mean?”
God, I hate this. Hate that I keep deepening the wound. Tears soak my cheeks as I stall.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” he presses.
“Because . . . b-because . . . ”
“Say it.”
“There was someone else.”
My words ignite a fire within him. His neck is tense, reddening in anger. With elbows on knees and white-knuckled fists clenching hair, I know he’s about to blow.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Declan,” I say in my attempt to explain the fucked up relationship Pike and I had.
“Besides me and Bennett, you were fucking someone else?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then it’s exactly what I’m thinking!” he seethes.
“No. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t . . . ” God, how the hell do I begin to explain this? “He was . . . This is going to sound crazy, I know, but it isn’t.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“I love you! Not Bennett. Not Pike. You!”
“Wait.” He pauses for a moment, and then continues, “That name. That guy . . . I went to see him. Found his name in the file your husband had on you.”
“Yeah.”
“This shit is so fucked up. I can’t even get my thoughts straight.”
“Pike’s my brother,” I reveal.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“My foster bother,” I clarify in a rush. “He’s my foster brother.”
“The same guy that was beating you?”
I nod.
“Do you know how sick this is? How sick you are? Fucking three men?”
Wiping my eyes, I move to sit on my knees. “I’m so sorry. I know it sounds messed up.”
“Sounds? No, Nina, it is messed up. You need serious help, you know that?”
I don’t bother correcting him when he calls me Nina.
He stands up, looking down on me in fury. “I can’t believe I fell for something as disgusting as you.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I say in a panic. “I didn’t like him like that. There were no feelings attached. It was the opposite of what you’re thinking. I used him so I didn’t have to feel. He was a vice. That’s all sex was with him. A vice to numb me.”
“Numb you from what, Nina?”
“From life!” I cry out. “From everything!”
“Everything? Even me?”
“No. Not you. Once I realized how I felt for you, I never touched him again. I couldn’t, because your hands were the only ones I wanted to be touched by. But I was already pregnant; I just didn’t know it.”
He paces the room, enraged.
“Declan, there’s so much you don’t know. So much I never told you because I couldn’t.”
“You could, you were just too selfish.”
“Okay, yes. You’re right. I was selfish. Selfish and scared. But you loved me, right?”
“I don’t know who the fuck you are! Tell me. Tell me who you are because I’m so goddamn confused right now!”
“I don’t know,” I whimper and then stand with him.
“You do know.”
“I don’t. I want to know. I’m trying.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know!”
Pacing a couple more times in determined strides, he finally gives up and walks to the door.
“I can’t do this shit anymore.”
And then he walks out, not even bothering to close the door behind him.
Sobs explode out of me—loud and vulgar. I don’t expect him to understand or to even want to. I’m sick; I know that. I knew I’d never have him again, but it doesn’t make the pain any less awful when he walks away from me.
“Elizabeth!” Isla calls out in urgency as she rushes into my room.
I instantly catch myself, swallowing back my sobs and wiping my face. “I’m fine. I’m so sorry for the disruption,” I say thickly as I weakly feign composure.
“Stop that!” she scolds as she takes my hand and walks me over to sit on the bed. “Are you okay, lassie?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
And with the pitying look on her face, I know she isn’t the slightest bit convinced.
“What was the McKinnon boy doing here? You never mentioned knowing him when we were discussing him the other morning.”
“I’m sorry, Isla,” I state calmly now that my breathing is steadying.
“Sorry?”