Swallowing the lump building in my throat, I folded my arms across my chest. “I do give you credit, but how could you have not loved her?”
“How does what I felt for her have anything to do with us?” he fired back. “Jesus Christ, Jillian, I can’t answer that question. I don’t know why I never loved her enough to want to be with her. It just didn’t happen.”
“Did you ask her to marry you because she lost the baby?”
Shaking his head, he lowered his chin. “I don’t know. Maybe I did. Maybe that was a part of it. I wanted to make her happy. I tried.”
Tugging the edges of the cardigan together, I looked away. “She said you let the guilt of what happened with me—”
“Why in the hell does it matter what she fucking said to you?” he demanded as he moved to the edge of the bed.
“It matters, because I deserve someone who’s not settling for me out of guilt!” I shouted. “And I deserve to be with someone who loves me as much as I love them!”
Brock stilled.
I don’t think he even breathed.
And then I realized what I’d said to him.
Oh my God.
Blood drained from my face and then rushed back at dizzying speed. I’d just told him I loved him.
Chapter 34
I hadn’t just told Brock that I loved him.
I’d practically screamed it at him, actually.
Everyone and their mother knew that I’d been in love with Brock when we were younger. Even Brock, who had tried to not acknowledge it, had known. But that was back then, when I was naïvely young and he was this unattainable rising star who only allowed himself to see me as a little sister to him.
That was not now.
Not when I was old enough to know what those words really meant and how they felt.
“What . . . what did you just say?” he asked as he lowered his hands to his knees.
Oh dear.
I held the ends of my sweater tighter as I glanced toward the door like that was going to be of some assistance. “I said I deserve someone who isn’t with me because they feel guilty.”
“That’s not the part I’m talking about,” he clarified, voice dangerously calm.
My lip trembled as my heart pounded against my chest. The words burned on the tip of my tongue like ash. Those three words were easy to toss around. People said them all the time, but I thought—no, I knew—that when you truly meant those three words they were hard to speak.
The old Jillian never would’ve had the courage to repeat them.
I was not her anymore.
Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin. “I said that I . . . that I love you.”
Something I couldn’t decipher flickered across his face. “You love me?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “I loved you when I was eight. I loved you when I was twelve. I loved you when I was twenty, and I . . . I love you now.”
Brock rose. “If you loved me all those times and love me now, then why haven’t you asked me what I was thinking the first time I saw you at the restaurant? Why don’t you ask me what I was feeling when I realized you were going out with that guy again? Ask me what it was like when I woke up the first time with you in my arms? Why not ask me how I felt the first time we kissed?”
A tremble coursed through me as he took a step forward. “You could’ve asked me what it was like the first time I got inside you and every time after that. If you loved me all this time, then why haven’t you asked me if I loved you?”
Air punched out of my lungs as what he said settled over me like warmed silk.
He stopped a few feet in front of me. “I don’t bring up Kristen because that part of my life is way over. The things that happened with her are a part of the past. They have no impact on anything that I do now and she sure as fuck has nothing to do with us. That might sound cold and cruel as fuck, but it’s the truth. And you’re right. I should’ve told you that she’d been calling and texting me. Then we could’ve talked and you would’ve been prepared for the kind of shit she was about to dump on you. I am sorry for that, because that’s my fuck-up.”
My fingers eased on the ends of the cardigan.
“I’m going to address the whole me feeling guilty over Kristen losing the baby. Did it upset me? Yes, it did. Did I feel bad for her—for her having to go through that when I wasn’t even there? Because I wasn’t. I was at a match in Australia when it happened. That I felt guilty over. Because I should’ve been there when she had to go through that, but I don’t feel responsible for her losing the baby. I don’t know what she told you to back that up—”
“She said you two were arguing often and that she was upset with you not being around.”
A dry, humorless laugh broke the silence. “Maybe she thinks it’s my fault. We weren’t fighting bad. Just normal shit. Hell, who knows, but contrary to popular belief, I don’t go looking for things to feel like shit over.”
I let go of the cardigan and lowered my arms.
“And this whole I’m with you out of guilt?” His lips pressed into a thin, hard line. “I can’t deny that guilt had eaten me up, and sometimes, there are moments where it still does. I know you don’t blame me. There was a time where I wished you did, but I’m damn glad now that you don’t. But for you to think that I’d get this involved with you because of that?” Brock stopped and closed his eyes, almost as if he couldn’t continue, and I knew—I knew right then—that I had hurt him. I’d hurt this man who was so strong, both physically and mentally. I had wounded him with my doubt.