Chapter 19

Chapter

Nineteen

FORREST

I hold Brooklynn against my body tightly. She thinks that whatever it is she's going to say, it's going to make an impact on me. That I'm just going to accept it—take it lying down. That I'm not going to fight for her.

I've been fed and taken enough shit in my short twenty-five years, and I'm tired of taking it. I don't have to. And in this case, I sure as shit do not need to accept shit because I know that she's trying to protect herself and maybe me, too.

"I think that maybe it's best we take a break. At least until this stuff cools down," she whispers.

I can tell that her words are hesitant. Mine would be, too, if I had just fucked my woman on her birthday and then tried to break it off with her. Because fuck that, and with all the respect in the world, fuck it—wholly and completely.

"You might think that, but you would be wrong, Brooklynn. Walking away never fixed a damn thing."

Those tears slide down her cheeks, and her breath hitches. I hate to see her cry and would do anything to keep those tears from staining her cheeks, but in this case, I'm not giving in to whatever fucked-up reasoning she has rolling around in her pretty head.

"I'm selling my part of the salon and moving to Raleigh."

My eyes narrow on hers. I absolutely do not like the sound of that, but at the same time, I know that Raleigh isn't far because that's where our games are. But that's not the point. Fuck, we were there tonight.

Keeping my voice low and my tone even, I speak to her, attempting to sound calm. Inside, I'm ready to flip tables. I'm so damn worked up. "Honey," I murmur, "you ain't running."

"I'm not running," she states, although her voice shakes when she says it. "I'm saving my friends from getting their business ruined. The reality is that if I stay, it's going to ruin everything we've all worked for. They would never make me leave. They aren't like that, but I can see the writing on the wall."

"And if you leave, change your entire life, then Kiki wins, but really, she's just a pawn. I don't even know her that well. If you leave, my parents win."

And that is the fact of it all.

This comes back to my parents.

All of it does—it always does.

"Forrest, we need to be realistic. They are going to make you miserable. They're going to ruin my business, my friends' business. And they don't care because money and people mean nothing to them."

Keeping her as close to me as possible, I wish I could actually consume her body into mine in an effort to protect her. Shield her from all this unnecessary drama that my stupid and selfish family has created. I've done a shit job of that, protecting her. But I'm going to make up for it now.

"I'm being realistic," I state. "Give me two weeks to fix this mess."

She lets out a heavy sigh, then clears her throat. "You won't be able to get my clients back. They think I'm a cheater. They think that I'm morally… black."

I snort. "Honey, not a single part of you could be anything but morally sound. If they can't see that, then you don't need them. Two weeks."

Instead of allowing her to respond because I have no doubt that it's going to be a denial of some kind, I lean down and press my lips to hers in a hard kiss. Slipping my tongue inside of her mouth, I taste her, a growl rising from my throat. She swallows the sound, and only then do I break the kiss.

Resting my forehead against hers, I let out a long breath. "I got this, honey. Let me take care of this, of you—of us."

Thankfully, she doesn't argue, but at the same time, I can tell she isn't fully convinced. I don't think that words would convince her anyway. She needs to see it, feel it, and have it wash over her. I don't blame her, but I'm going to show her that she can depend on me, count on me, and trust that I have her back.

brOOKLYNN

I don't sleep. It evades me completely. Turning my head to the side, I watch him sleeping peacefully beside me. He's made his speech and his promises, and he is at peace. I am not… I want to be, but I'm not.

Anxiety fills me. My dad's advice consumes me. I need to go. I need to regroup and regroup myself. As much as Forrest thinks that he understands, he doesn't. It's no fault of his. His job is secure, no matter who he's sleeping with or how irritated his parents are that they can't control him.

My job isn't secure, and neither are my friends'. If it was just me, I might give him the two weeks, but it's not. It's me and my girls. Their futures and reputations are what I care about more than myself.

I slip out of bed, then dress in the dark before I sneak out of the bedroom, trying to stay as quiet as possible. I tiptoe down the stairs but stop when I hear someone clear their throat. Turning my head, I look at the noise.

It's Lev. He's standing at the kitchen counter. When I flick my gaze down to his hands, I notice that he's got an omelet on a plate, but not just any omelet. It's gorgeous. I don't know what he put in it, but it's colorful—reds and greens, with an avocado on the side, some kind of creamy sauce, and cheese.

"You are sneaking out, which means you are leaving," he announces.

Ever so observant, just like the rest of these men. I hate that. Pressing my lips together, I tear my eyes from his fancy omelet and look down at my feet. I'm barefoot, my high heels in my hand.

"I understand why you would go. It would make things much easier."

"Lev," I whisper, lifting my gaze to meet his. "It's not about me."

His brows snap together. "It isn't?" he asks. The question is both genuine and smart-assed. I know it is.

"The salon is losing business. People are targeting it because I have an interest in it. It doesn't matter that I've lost most of my clients. What I'm concerned about is everyone else."

"And Forrest?" he asks.

I jut my chin out slightly. "He deserves everything that is rightfully his. That will never happen with me at his side."

Lev nods a couple of times, and then he flicks his gaze to mine, locking them. "Isn't what he wants up to him to decide?" he asks. "You're making a decision for him."

"He'll be happier," I whisper.

Shaking his head, Lev lets out a heavy sigh. "Girl," he grunts, "you have no fucking clue how much he cares for you. He would never be happier without you. But it's clear that you're going to do whatever it is you want. If you don't care for him as much as he does you, then you don't deserve him."

And with that, just like an animal that has had enough of your shit, he turns his back to me and dips his chin before he starts eating his beautiful omelet, and I have no choice but to either go back upstairs or leave.

The decision I make, I know I'll regret for the rest of my life—I leave.

And I don't walk across the street to home. Instead, I sink down into the driver's seat of my car, start my engine, and head straight toward my parents' house in Raleigh.

I do exactly what both Forrest and Lev accuse me of—I run. But I do it under the guise of care and love. Because I do love Forrest, and the last thing I want for him is to have his life ruined. And my friends and my sisters, I do it for them.

Every mile that I drive farther away from my house, from Forrest, makes my stomach twist harder and harder. My heart breaks piece by piece, and by the time I pull into my parents' driveway, it's nothing but a pile of rubble.

Before I walk into the house, I take my phone out of the cup holder and send a few messages. To my best friends, I send a text, and I know it's cowardly of me, but I can't bring myself to tell them in person or talk to them over the phone.

I'm sorry for everything that's been going on. I would like to offer for you to buy me out for just what I invested. Also, I am moving out. Consider this my thirty-day notice. I love you.

My next message is to my clients. Luckily, I have all their numbers, so I can send one huge group text to them. The message is clinical. I advise them that I am leaving the salon and that they can make appointments with any of the other fabulous hairstylists.

I don't send a text to Forrest. He knows why I'm not there, but it's not just that. I can't bring myself to do it. I can't bring myself to actually end anything. I've fallen in love with this man. Even if it's to save him, his reputation, and his future, the last thing I want to do is leave him.

I love every part of that man.

The realization slams into me.

I love him.

Not like him… not care for him. I truly, deep down, love him. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would fall so head over heels for Forrest Westwood. But I have, and now I'm leaving him.