Breaking Him (Love is War #1)(55)

Also, he’d never wronged me. There was nothing I could pin on him aside from my own guilt at how I’d treated him.

I didn’t know what to expect. But if I’d had to guess, him walking up and enfolding me in a big tight hug would have been far from the first thing I’d have come up with. And that’s exactly what he did.

I was returning to the theatre room after a trip to the restroom when I ran into him.

I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know what to do.

“It’s been too long,” he murmured into my ear.

Still recovering from the shock of him, I was only just then returning his embrace.

“How are you?” I asked him softly.

“Not too bad,” he said in that almost delicate voice of his that hadn’t changed a bit. It was a voice made for reciting poetry, soothing and lyrical.

We pulled back and looked at each other. I smiled tremulously at him. It really was nice to see him, particularly nice since he didn’t seem to hate my guts like he probably should have.

He looked close to the same. His angular face was handsome, his features symmetrical. He’d always been a skinny kid and he’d grown into a slender but graceful man. He was tall but not towering at just under six feet.

His blond hair was longer. He wore it in a kind of artfully messy way where it fell into his face, but it looked like that was the design of it.

I brushed one silky strand behind his ear.

“I don’t even know how you do it, but somehow you’re more beautiful than ever,” he proclaimed with his sweet smile, touching my cheek. He had a way of saying things with such vulnerable sincerity that you couldn’t help but be moved.

How had I ever thought that this sweet soul should be relegated to the role of casualty? Why had I thought that was okay?

Because Dante.

Because war.

Still, I’d take it all back if I could, if I’d had any clue the extent of the damage I was doing.

Nate held both of my hands in his and just looked at me for a while. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you,” he told me.

“Really?” I asked him.

“Really. Truly.”

I caught Dante watching us from across the room.

I tilted my head to the side. The man still managed to fascinate me. Right then he was losing it. His hands were in fists and he was trembling.

Nate followed my gaze. He jerked a bit when he saw who I was looking at. “He still won’t talk to me,” he informed me wanly. “Won’t come near me, and he says that if I try to go near him, I’ll be sorry. I believe him.”

“I’m sorry,” I stated simply.

“It’s not your fault. I made my choices. I’m accountable. I love him like a brother, but looking at it with a bit of perspective, I don’t think it could be any other way. There can be no peace between two men when they’re in love with the same woman.”

I flushed and looked away. “I’m sorry,” I repeated lamely, a wave of guilt washing over me.

“Don’t be. The past is the past, and I’m doing much better now, I promise.”

“Yeah?” I looked back at his face.

“Yes. I mean it. I’m doing well enough that I wouldn’t mind a phone call from you every now and then.”

I nodded slowly, still studying him. “All right. I can do that. I’d like that.”

His smile brightened, and he took out his phone. “Tell me your number. I’ll call and you can save mine.”

I spouted mine off, and a beat later, heard my phone vibrating in my little clutch that I had draped crossways over my torso.

“Sounds like I got it,” I told him. “I’ll be sure to save it.”

He held one of my hands in both of his. “We’ll leave it at that. I don’t want to agitate Dante any more than necessary. I hope to hear from you soon.”

“You will,” I promised.

We air-kissed cheeks, and he slowly moved away.

Dante avoided me like the plague after that.

I was fine with that. It was rare when I got to observe him from afar, so I took advantage.

He seemed particularly standoffish, and not just towards me. Or at least, the majority of it wasn’t. His family got the honors on this particular occasion.

The way he looked at his mother when she came near him was almost worth being here for. I got an absolutely diabolical kick out of it.

She was a level of bitch that I liked to refer to as f*ck that.

As in, upon seeing her, your best option was to say ‘f*ck that’ and flee in the opposite direction.

Even at a funeral. Especially at a funeral.

I wasn’t sure what she’d done lately, the sky was the limit with her, but she seemed to have permanently alienated her only child.

I wasn’t surprised. She seemed to me to be capable of anything.

I honestly didn’t think I’d have a hard time avoiding her. She hated to acknowledge that I even existed.

I didn’t factor in the one annoying little detail.

I had something that she wanted now, and of course she’d figured it out right away.

She strode right up to me so suddenly that I didn’t even have escape as an option.

Adelaide Durant was hell on wheels disguised as a delicate flower of a woman. She was pale and petite with masses of pitch black hair and eyes the same ocean blue as her son. She had an ageless beauty that seemed to take less blows from time than was fair. If the smooth lines of her face hand been made of karma, she’d look like a withered old hag by now.