___*🩶
Prologue
Two Years Ago
“What did you just do?”
Louis’s voice cut through the room, sharp and disbelieving. My boyfriend looked as stunned as I felt, frozen in place, while my skin still burned—tingling, flushed—betraying the memory of a kiss that should never have happened.
Gabe stood apart from us, detached, unreadable. As though he hadn’t just crossed a line that could never be erased. As though he hadn’t kissed me like it meant everything, then discarded it like it meant nothing at all.
He shrugged.
That single, careless gesture shattered what remained.
Louis lunged at his brother, his fist colliding with Gabe’s jaw. The sound was sickening. My stomach twisted. This was my fault. I was the reason Louis was hurting enough to punch the man he had grown up idolizing.
I thought that was rock bottom.
I was wrong.
Gabe recovered quickly, charging forward and striking back with vicious precision. He wiped blood from his mouth and smiled—a cruel, knowing smile—before delivering the words that crushed the air from my lungs.
“You deserved it,” he sneered. “After sleeping with my girl behind my back.”
A sob lodged itself in my throat.
This was never about desire. This was revenge. I was nothing more than leverage in a war between brothers. And no matter how desperately I wanted to scream, to defend myself, to tear into the boy who was still supposed to be my boyfriend, I didn’t.
I just looked at him.
“I’m breaking up with you,” I said.
My voice sounded distant, hollow—like it belonged to someone else. Then I turned and walked away, leaving them behind to destroy each other without me.
That was the day I learned two things.
First: never kiss your boyfriend’s older brother. If he does it, it’s never accidental—and he will not care how used you feel afterward. I deserved that truth, I suppose. I was still dating his brother.
Second: never fall in love with a boy you’ve known your entire life and trust him not to betray you. One day, his body will make the decision for him—not love.
I hated men.
And I hated myself for being foolish enough to let Gabe kiss me in the first place. I’d had a small, harmless crush once—but I loved Louis. I truly did. I even blamed the tequila shot I took that night, my first legal drink at eighteen, as if one swallow of freedom had been enough to ruin everything.
Was I blind to what was happening around me?
Maybe.
But from the deepest part of my heart, I hated them both—one for making me feel disposable, the other for shattering the love I trusted.
A fitting birthday gift.
