Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(92)

“It is. You weren’t there. You don’t know…” She pulled back, her nose red and her eyes glassy. “We were having an emergency meeting about the news of…you and me. I confessed the allegations were true, and when he told me to end things with you, I refused. I was arguing with Markus about it when he collapsed.” She blinked, her lashes glittering with unshed tears. “It was me, Rhys. Don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault, because it was.”

A deep fissure split my heart in half. Bridget already blamed herself for her mother’s death. To add the guilt from her grandfather’s heart attack on top of that…

“It’s not,” I said firmly. “Your grandfather has an underlying condition. Anything could’ve set it off.”

“Yes, and this time it was me. He was supposed to cut back on his stress, and I gave him a year’s worth in one day.” Bridget’s laugh sounded hollow as she stepped all the way out of my embrace and wrapped her arms around her waist. “What a great granddaughter I am.”

“Bridget…” I reached for her again, but she shook her head, her eyes fixed on the floor.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Everything fell silent. My heartbeat, my pulse, the hum of the fridge and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Could I still be alive if my heart wasn’t beating?

“Do what anymore?” My voice sounded strange in the vacuum Bridget’s words created. Lower, more guttural, like an animal ensnared in a trap of its own making.

It was a stupid question.

I knew the answer. We both knew. A part of me had been expecting this moment since our kiss in a dark hallway a lifetime ago, but still, I hoped.

Bridget blinked, those beautiful blue eyes shimmering with heartache before they hardened, and my hope died a swift, fiery death.

“This. Us.” She gestured between us. “Whatever we had. It has to end.”





40





Bridget





Don’t look at him.

If I looked at him, I would lose it, and I was already half out of my mind. The stress, guilt, and exhaustion of the past four days had seeped into my bones, turning me into a walking zombie.

But I couldn’t help myself. I looked.

And my heart promptly splintered into even more pieces than it already had.

Rhys stared at me, so still he could’ve passed for a statue had it not been for the pain flickering in his eyes.

“Had?” That calm, even tone never boded well.

“It was fun while it lasted.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, like poison pills of lies I fed myself to get through the next hour and possibly the rest of my life. “But people know. Everyone’s watching us. We can’t continue whatever…this is.”

“Fun.” Still in that dangerously calm voice.

“Rhys.” I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. The hospital staff had set the temperature to a comfortable seventy-three degrees, but my skin felt like ice beneath my palms. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Please let my heart break in peace.

“The hell I won’t.” His gray eyes had darkened to a near black, and a vein throbbed in his temple. “Tell me something, princess. Are you doing this because you want to, or because you feel like you have to?”

“I don’t feel like I have to. I do have to!” Frustration seared through me, sharp and hot. Didn’t he get it? “It’s only a matter of time before the press confirms the allegations. Elin and Markus and my family already know. What do you think is going to happen once it’s all out in the open?”

“Your Majesty!”

“Grandfather!”

Nikolai, Markus, and Elin rushed to Edvard’s side while I stood there, unable to move.

I should join them. Make sure he was okay.

But of course he wasn’t okay. He’d just collapsed…because of me and what I said. Because I thought, for one second, I could have a semblance of control over my life.

If he died, the last conversation we had would have been an argument.

“You will end the relationship and never see Mr. Larsen again.”

“No.”

Something inside me shriveled into a husk.

“Bridget…”

The sound of my name, deep and raw, scraped against my willpower, leaving dents in something that had never been strong to begin with. Not when it came to him.

I closed my eyes, trying to find the cool, unshakable version of myself I presented to the public. The one who’d smiled through hours of standing and waving while my feet bled through my heels. The one who’d walked behind my father’s casket and held back tears until I crumpled into a ball in the bathroom during the wake.

But I couldn’t. I’d never been able to hide who I truly was from Rhys.

I heard him walk toward me. Smelled that clean, masculine scent that had become my comfort scent over the years because it meant he was near and I was safe. Felt him rub away a tear I hadn’t even noticed had escaped with his thumb.

Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

“Princess, look at me.”

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut tighter. My emotions formed a tight knot in my throat, making it near impossible to breathe.