When Love Breaks by Jack

Chapter 436

On the way to the hotel, the driver was at the wheel. We sat in the back, with Bryant mostly silent. Every so often, he glanced my way but said nothing. His silence suited me just fine–there wasn’t much I wanted to talk about either, so we just sat there in quiet. The hotel wasn’t far off. And in that silence, we soon arrived,

“That boy who called you Aunt earlier, is he Gregory’s nephew?” After a long while, in the quiet of the car, Bryant’s deep, husky voice finally broke the silence. I looked up at him, meeting his complex gaze, “Yeah, his cousin’s son.”

Bryant seemed restless, impulsively pulling out a pack of cigarettes and drawing one to his lips, then catching my eye and stopping himself from lighting it. He tossed the cigarette into the ashtray with irritation, fixing his gaze on me, hesitating before finally voicing his question, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

“You and Gregory, are you together now?” I faced him squarely, feeling not a shred of guilt. It was as if everything had changed over time. As if I had anticipated this moment between us. Either he would be with someone else or I would. It was nothing out of the ordinary. There was nothing to lie about, nothing to hide, I simply smiled, “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” His eyes narrowed, catching the nuance in my tone. I nodded, openly, “Right. There’s a misunderstanding between us that hasn’t been cleared up yet.” Bryant’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice coming out rough and dry, “And after it’s cleared?” “Then, we’ll likely be together.” I looked at him earnestly, “Then what? Get married? Have kids? I don’t know. There are too many unknowns, but that’s the plan for now.”

seemed frozen, barely breathing, shrouded in the shadow of the setting sun, looking particularly dejected. After a long moment, he took a deep breath, as if suppressing some emotion. Suddenly, his voice

you have no right to expect

1/

Chapter 436

the one entangled with Margaret Ferguson was you; but the one who never gave up on me was Gregory.” I asked him, with a smile, “If you were me,

hand clenched into a fist, the veins on his wrist bulging. When he spoke again, there was a hint of self–mockery, “You’re right.” “But you

with the Ferguson family, RF, or even all of RiverCity under your sway. But please, I’m begging you, let me go.” On my pale wrist was a startling scar. It had not healed well, the keloid scar was quite severe. But it was evident how

grasped my wrist, his fingertips

Gregory, you… you slit

above the more visible scar, barely

cover the scar, my voice light, “Bryant, we

was talking about someone else’s life. Bryant watched me, “When did this happen?” I glanced at the