Too late, my love.

YASMIN

"It's a lie, Yasmin. Everything is a lie." Julian's voice cracked through the phone, shaky and broken. He was crying. I'd never once heard him cry before, not in all the years I'd known him.

"Julian, what happened? Talk to me—"

"Everything we built, everything I believed. It's all a lie."

My heart slammed against my ribs and my hands were shaking so badly, I could barely hold my phone still against my ear.

"You're scaring me. What happened?" The words came out shaky, thin, not sounding like my own voice at all.

"They did this. They—" His voice broke and he was gasping now, like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. "I can't believe I didn't see it. All these years, and they—"

"Who? Julian, who are you talking about?"

"I should have told you. I should have told you everything." He was sobbing, the words tumbling out in these broken little gasps. "I've been such a fool all this time, and I didn't—"

"Julian, please—"

"I thought I knew them but it was all—"

A crash exploded through the phone before he could finish, glass shattering somewhere on his end, so loud I jerked back in my chair.

"Julian!" I screamed into the phone. "Julian!"

I heard him yell. Something raw, desperate, cutting straight through all that noise and then nothing, the line just went silent.

"Julian? Julian, are you there? Can you hear me?" I yelled into the phone but I got no reply.

"Julian, please talk to me! Julian!" I called back, over and over, and it just rang and rang.

"Julian, please..."

I couldn't stop my tears by that point. His voice kept echoing in my head, the panic in it, the desperation.

*Smash* The sound of glass breaking against the floor somewhere nearby jolted me back, and I flinched so hard I almost fell off my chair. I was back at the bar.

Right, the bar!!

Julian’s funeral had ended hours ago but I couldn't go home, not with all that grief sitting inside that house, Rosalie crying, Noah sniffling in the corner, all of it pressing down on me until I couldn't breathe.

I don't even remember walking here, or ordering whatever was in front of me now. All I remembered, was that phone call.

Julian was dead. My closest friend, Rosalie's husband, Noah's father was gone and here I was, alone in some hotel bar, because I couldn't stand to be around the people who were supposed to be my family tonight.

Another crash sounded again followed by someone , shouting and immediately I looked up.

Damien Delacroix was here, in the bar.

Julian's younger brother, the playboy, the one everyone always said didn't take anything seriously — except at the funeral he'd stood there like something carved out of stone, nothing on his face at all.

He was drunk, the destructive kind of drunk, suit rumpled, tie hanging loose around his neck, eyes bloodshot and wild.

Broken glass was everywhere around his feet. "Get away from me!" He swung at the bartender, who ducked. "I said leave me alone!"

"Mr. Delacroix, please—"

"Don't touch me!"

He reached for a bottle and his hands were shaking so badly it slipped right through his fingers and shattered before he even got it off the counter.

"Someone call security," a waitress whispered somewhere behind me. "That's Damien Delacroix. We can't—"

He's going to hurt himself. I don't know why that thought came out of my mouth instead of staying in my head, or why I was already standing up, except that Julian wouldn't have wanted to see his brother like this. That much I knew.

So I walked over. He didn't notice until I was standing right in front of him.

"What the hell do you want, Yasmin?" He could barely stay upright. "Get out of here."

"Damien."

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I want to help you."

His face twisted, pain and fury all tangled together. "Don't!! Don't you dare."

"I'm not here to upset you." My voice was shaking but I kept it as steady as I could. "I'm trying to get you upstairs."

"I don't need your help." He tried shoving past me and I grabbed his arm.

"Let go of me." He yelled but I didn't budge.

"Give me your room key."

"Get away from me."

"Damien—" He stumbled and I caught him, and I nearly fell down with how heavy he was.

"I loved him." His voice was barely a whisper now. "He was my brother, and I couldn't—"

His voice broke completely and his shoulders started shaking, all that grief just pouring out of him at once.

"Come on." I whispered wrapping my arm around his waist and we started walking, one step at a time, his weight nearly buckling my knees more than once along the way.

"I loved him," he kept saying, over and over. "I loved him, and I couldn't save him."

I didn't say anything back. There wasn't anything I could've said that would have actually meant something to him right then.

—

The room was dark when I got the door open. I sat him on the edge of the bed and knelt down to pull off his shoes and after that I stood up.

"I should go." I whispered but his hand reached out to mine.

"Don't."

"Please." His voice had gone quiet "Don't leave."

I should have pulled away right there, I should have walked straight out that door and not looked back.

But his eyes found mine, and for just a moment I wasn't the quiet sister, or the forgotten daughter, or invisible, the way I usually felt in every room with my family in it.

I was just someone else who happened to be grieving too, and he was someone who actually understood how heavy that was.

"I'm so tired," he whispered. "I'm so tired of being alone." He whispered as his other hand came up, his thumb brushing my cheek, like he needed to convince himself I was actually real and actually there.

When he leaned in I could have pulled back but I didn't and his mouth found mine, he was hesitant for half a second before his hands moved to the buttons of my dress with this kind of desperation that had nothing to do with wanting me and everything to do with not wanting to feel whatever he was feeling for one more second.

I didn't stop him, I didn't stop any of it.

—

Morning light came through the curtains and I opened my eyes into a room I didn't recognize, the smell of expensive cologne tangled up with whiskey wafted into my nose and then I remembered.

My stomach dropped straight through the mattress almost immediately. Oh my God. I slept with Damien, Julian's brother.

I sat up too fast, my heart already racing. The bed beside me was empty.

Water was running somewhere behind a door and panic clawed straight up my chest. What had I done? What kind of person does this — the night of her own friend's funeral, she sleeps with his brother.

I scrambled out of bed hunting for my clothes, needing to be dressed and gone before he came out of that bathroom but I didn’t make it.

The door opened and there he was, towel around his waist, hair still wet, eyes completely clear now.

He was a different man entirely. Gone was the sad man I had helped yesterday and in front of me was the cold, controlled, Damien Delacroix.

His eyes swept over me like I was a stain on the carpet he was only just now noticing.

He crossed to the dresser as he pulled out a small box and threw it at me.

It hit my chest and dropped onto the sheets before I even got my hands up to catch it.

It was a Plan B pill.

I stared down at it. "What is this?"

"You know exactly what it is."

"We used protection. I'm not—"

"I'm not taking chances." He snapped. "I don't know what you were trying to accomplish last night but this ends here."

"You think I wanted—"

"I don't know what you wanted, and I don't care." He cut me off before I could get another word out. "Take it and get out."

I took the pill, swallowed it dry.

"Happy?" I said dryly but he didn't answer.

"Why are you still here? Do you need money or something." He snapped and heat rushed to my face instantly.

"I don't want your money." I shot back and he sighed.

"Then why are you still standing here?"

I just stared at him. This man who'd held my hand a few hours ago and begged me not to leave him alone was now looking at me like I was something that needed clearing off his floor.

"Let me be very clear." My voice was shaking but I forced the words out anyway. "I don't want you and I don't want your money. Last night was a mistake, and I regret every second of it."

Nothing moved in his face. "Good, then we understand each other." He answered just as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at it and something shifted, just slightly, in his expression. I caught the name that lit up on the screen before he turned it away from me.

Rosalie.

He picked up immediately, and his voice dropped into something almost gentle.

He ended the call and looked back at me like he'd already forgotten I was standing there.

"Get out," he snapped . "I don't want your sister to meet you here." He added and I grabbed the rest of my things without another word and walked out with my spine straight, eyes dry, and it wasn't until I was halfway down that hallway that I let myself actually feel it.

The humiliation curling up through my stomach.

I promised myself right there in that hallway that I would hate Damien Delacroix for the rest of my life.