Sweet Regret by K. Bromberg
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG
“K. Bromberg always delivers intelligently written, emotionally intense, sensual romance . . .”
—USA Today
“K. Bromberg makes you believe in the power of true love.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Audrey Carlan
“Always an absolute must-read.”
—New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting
“An irresistibly hot romance that stays with you long after you finish the book.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout
“Bromberg is a master at turning up the heat!”
—New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans
“Supercharged heat and full of heart. Bromberg aces it from the first page to the last.”
—New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott
PROLOGUE
Bristol
Eleven Years Ago
My heart jumps out of my chest as I scan the shadows of my room for whatever just yanked me from sleep.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I bite back a yelp as my eyes register the dark silhouette standing outside my bedroom window.
About the same time as my brain computes the notion that an axe murderer wouldn’t be knocking—they’d just break in—my phone vibrates on the nightstand beside me. The illuminated screen shows text after text from Vince.
I scramble out of bed, bleary-eyed and anxious. With a glance toward my bedroom door to make sure it’s shut, I pull the curtain aside and open the window as quietly as possible.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-yell before emitting a nervous chuckle and looking over my shoulder again. He’s removed the screen. There’s no way he can come in here. What if my parents hear? What if they walk in? What if— “Are you out of your mind? Do you know how grounded I’ll be if my parents find you here? How much trouble we’ll be in?”
But at the same time, I’m so glad he is. Our fight earlier was a rarity, and I hated the sick feeling I had in my stomach when I went to bed without hearing from him.
“Trouble?” He chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like the Vincent I know. He sounds off. Dejected. Maybe even drunk. “Like I care about getting in trouble.” He cups the back of my neck and brings his mouth to mine.
For the briefest of seconds, the fight from earlier disappears, and I lose myself in everything Vincent Jennings has become to me. The dark spark in my mundane life. The best friend I can tell anything. The rebel that pushes my boundaries when I’d rather paint inside the lines—or exactly, perfectly on the lines. The person who looks at me and makes me feel beautiful.
My first love.
But there’s something more to this kiss and the faint taste of beer on his tongue, and it takes me a few seconds to recognize it.
There’s desperation here—hunger—an urgency that I can’t comprehend.
“Vince?” I ask as the kiss ends and he rests his forehead on mine, his hand still at the base of my neck holding me to him. “What’s wrong?”
He gives the slightest shake of his head but doesn’t move.
He’s been like this before when whatever happens at his house . . . happens. He’s come to me not wanting to talk but needing my company. He’s come to me with a swollen cheek or busted lip but has refused to explain other than to play it off with a “you should’ve seen the other guy” type of comment.
But he’s never knocked on my window at two in the morning. He’s never kissed me so it makes me feel like this might be our last kiss. His presence has never caused the panic fluttering in my throat like it is right now.
I don’t know what to do so I kiss him again. Soft and slow and unknowingly try to give him everything he needs but won’t say that he does.
“Bristol,” he murmurs against my lips before forcibly taking a step back.
“What? What is it?” I glance toward my door again. “Tell me.” Please tell me this time. “Climb in.”
He’s in my room in a second. When his feet land on the floor, it sounds like a herd of elephants in my head, and I’m more than certain my parents will be rushing in here at any second.
But they don’t come.
My door doesn’t barge open.
It’s just Vince and me facing each other in the darkness of my room, both hands holding on to each other’s. But when he shifts and the moonlight hits his face, I can see the bruise on his cheek. I notice his red-rimmed eyes, and for the first time ever, I hope it’s from the alcohol and not from crying.
While his kiss tasted like beer, I know it’s not from that.
The solemnity in his demeanor tells me what I don’t want to know and what he has never talked about in the three years we’ve been together.
His house.
His dad.
The things that happen there.
I scramble for what to say as he looks at me with a resigned determination I don’t understand . . . and don’t think I want to.
“Is this about earlier?” I ask, grasping for something to erase the expression on his face.
He gives a smile that is as subtle as the shake of his head for his answer.
“I’ve thought about it and realized that I caused a fight because I was nervous. What will people think of me if they find out we went all the way? Then I was worried it might be different between us after we did it and . . . I just don’t want it to ruin this. Us. And . . .” My nervous chuckle stops my endless ramble that we know can go on forever. I slide my hand around the back of his neck and bring his lips to mine. “I’m ready, Vince. I want to—”
“No, Shug.” The tensing of my body has him swearing. “God, yes, I want you. How could you think otherwise? You’re all I think about. Sometimes I want you so bad it physically hurts. But not like this. Not now.”
“But . . .” His rejection stings and is more confusing than what he’s doing here right now.
“Don’t you see? You deserve so much better than me. So much more than what I can give you. Than—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I grab his head in both of my hands and stare into those green eyes that are so light they’re almost translucent. “You’re all I need. You’re everything to me.”
“For now, maybe. But you have a huge future ahead of you. You’ll be valedictorian when you graduate. Then off to college. Then law school after that. I mean—”
“We already talked about this. Planned this. You’re going to go with me. Play in the local clubs wherever I go and try to be seen there. No one thought we’d last a month, yet here we are. It’ll be hard but we’ll make it work. We always have.”
He nods but refuses to meet my eyes.
“What is it, Vince? What are you not telling me?” That panic resurfaces, clawing its way up my throat.
“I’m leaving, Shug.”
“What do you mean you’re leaving? Like for the weekend?” My mind races. “I thought we were going to go to . . . never mind. I get it. You have plans. But you’ll be back on Sunday, right?”
“No. I’m going. Now. Tonight.” He lifts his gaze to meet mine, and all the air is sucked from the room as his expression pulls tight. “For good.”
“I—I don’t understand.” Emotion balls in my throat and chills chase over my skin. “You can’t go. We have plans.” I shake my head as if the action will help this make sense. It doesn’t. “But you—”
“I can’t take this anymore.” His voice breaks right along with my heart at the sound of it.
“Take what?” I ask but know before he answers. His dad. The reason why in the three years we’ve been dating, I’ve only met the man once, and why I’m only allowed over to his house when his dad’s not home.