Miles watched the night wind lift strands of her hair. She tucked her pale, slender neck deeper into the blanket for warmth. "I don't know you well," he said, "but my parents genuinely care about you. That says a lot about who you are. But there's someone else in my heart. I made her a promise—that I'd marry her—and I won't go back on my word. From now on, if you ever run into trouble, I'll have your back. As your brother."
He stood in the path of the wind. Carried on the cold night air was the faint trace of that woman's perfume.
A fine, piercing ache spread through Molly's chest. Tears welled in her eyes.
"I hope you two are happy together," she managed, her voice catching.
In the end, Molly couldn't bring herself to call him "brother."
Because she really did love him.
Loved him so much that when he looked at her with indifference, she pretended not to notice. As long as she could be near him, she was happy.
But he simply didn't love her back.
The woman in his heart meant too much to him. He wouldn't even give Molly a chance—wouldn't try to get to know her.
Still, she had to admire him. In this fast-paced world, staying devoted to one person was rare.