Chapters (43)
- Also by Jennifer L. Armentrout
- Title Page
- Imprint Page
- Contents
- Epigraph
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Epigraph
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Epigraph
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Epigraph
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Epigraph
“And I know we can’t go back and pretend that I didn’t . . .” A muscle flexed in his jaw as his gaze moved to the opposite wall lined with cabinets. “That I didn’t let you down in all the worst ways. I know I’ve apologized before. I said I was sorry a hundred times.”
Brock had.
“But those apologies aren’t enough,” he added.
I studied his profile, dread building as I started to understand him. “You don’t have to be friends with me because of what happened, because you feel guilty or—”
“It’s not that. Not what I mean at all.” His gaze flew to mine and he leaned in toward me, leaving only a few scant inches between us. “I don’t want you to come to work and stress about having to avoid me. I want you to be comfortable there.” A lock of brown hair fell forward, brushing his forehead. “I know what I’m asking for is a lot. I know that there’s a good chance I don’t even deserve it, but I want us to be friends, Jillian.”
Friends.
God, at one time, hearing him say that would’ve shattered my poor heart into smithereens, but now? I didn’t know how to feel about that. Brock and I, as silly as it sounded back then with the age difference, had been best friends. Losing all that girlish hope that one day we’d have that romance-book happily-ever-after had been terrible. Ending the friendship had hurt worse, because when I cut him out of my life, I lost my closest friend—my partner in crime and adventure.
“Can we do that?” he asked. “I’m being for real. When I said last Monday this felt like a second chance, I meant that. Can we at least try?”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure—had no idea if I could truly be friends with Brock. Not because he hadn’t returned my feelings once upon a time. It didn’t even have anything to do with what had happened to me the night Brock claimed he’d let me down in the worst ways possible, because I didn’t blame him for what happened.
But I wasn’t sure if we could be friends without me . . . without me falling deep again, slipping under, and catching the kind of feelings for him that would inevitably end in another heartbreak.