Chapter 30

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Layla

"Hey," I say, immediately stepping to the side. My nerves shoot to high alert as I take in the stress lines on Branch's face.

He marches by me, his forehead marred in an alarming way. His lips form a thin, angry line as he turns to face me.

"Branch, what's wrong?"

"Have you seen Exposé?"

"No," I gulp. "Why?"

I need to grab on to something to steady myself, but I'm too scared to even move. Frozen in place, I watch him slide his phone out of his pocket and cue something. He hands it to me.

My lungs fail to operate as I see not Branch, but Callum, on the screen. With a shaky finger, I press the triangle to play the video.

With every laugh, every line spoken, my emotions grow deeper. More confused. More infected with the poison of his actions.

I should deny this, I should be outraged, I should look at Branch and see what he's thinking. But I can't. I'm stuck in this state of disbelief that I can't even look up from the phone.

My mind keeps reeling that Callum is purposefully painting this picture of me. To the world. To everyone. To Branch.

Tearing my eyes away from the phone as the next video begins to play, I look into his handsome face.

"Branch . . ."

Some of the fury in his face is gone, but in its place is nothing better. There's a distance there, a wall similar to the one I saw the day I met him.

"This isn't true," I insist. "You surely don't believe this."

His response takes too long. It gives just enough time for all of my fears to break the shock of what just happened and send me into a nearly full-blown panic.

"This is bullshit," I say, my hands trembling. "This is complete bullshit."

"That's what I said."

That quells a touch of my anxiety, but not nearly enough. "You don't believe this, do you?"

Images I'd allowed myself to consider—holidays at the cabin, sitting in the stands and watching him play with our child, him holding the baby on his lap while they're both asleep—trickle through my brain, teasing me with the future.

Even if those things could be my reality, so would this. Headlines. Gossip. Me and my child being fair game.

"No, I don't believe it," he says. Blowing out a breath, he sticks his hands in his pockets. "I'm right not to believe it, right?"

"What? Are you seriously asking me that?"

He looks to the ceiling.

"If there's any part of you at all that believes that asshole, then I wouldn't want you anyway."

His head drops slowly, his gaze landing on mine. The Branch I know, the one I might even love, looks back at me.

"You know I don't believe any of this shit. It's not a question. I know you and you shouldn't want me." He laughs to himself, hanging his head.

"It's not you I don't want. It's this. I don't want this."

"I don't want to give you this, and I'm not just talking this ridiculous gossip," he says. "I see it in your eyes. It's the start of the hatred, the ruination of your world. You were right. You deserve so much better than this."

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