One Night: Chicago
A moment of weakness.
I took something I never should’ve been allowed to have.
Claire St. James.
Even though I knew she was too good for me.
Even though I knew if she ever learned the truth about me she’d run, screaming in the other direction.
Even though I knew she and I could never have a future.
She offered me her innocence and I took it.
And then I disappeared without a trace.
I told myself it was better for her this way.
That a girl like her has no business with a guy like me.
That she’d forget about me.
Find someone better.
Five years later, I’m still trying to find my way out from under her. Deal with the mountain of mistakes that stood between us.
When I come face to face with her again, I’m not ready.
I’m still broken.
But this is it.
My second chance to get things right between us.
And this time, I’m not walking away.
I’ve always looked out for my little brother. Protected him. Provided for him. Everything he needed. Anything he wanted, by any means necessary. It never mattered what it was or what I had to do to get it because I owe him.
You see, it’s my fault our parents are dead and taking care of him is my penance.
Meeting Briana St. James changed all that.
On the surface, she’s vapid and shallow. Your stereotypical girl gone wild… but that’s not who she really is and the more I get to know the real her, the more I start to forget my purpose. That being happy isn’t in the cards for me. That I have a debt to my brother that I can never really repay.
With Briana, I start to think that maybe I can have something for myself. That maybe I deserve something for myself.
Then my kid brother comes along and reminds me that’s a wrong way of thinking.
I didn’t just let Briana go. I pushed her away. Did everything I could to keep her as far away from me as possible but here she is, partying in my club with her friends like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
It’s her bachelorette party.
And she’s marrying my brother.
It should matter.
It should matter that she’s got my little brother’s ring on her finger but the more I look at her, the closer I get to her, the less I start to care.
The more I start to want her.
Briana St. James was mine first.
And I’m taking her back.