Master of his heart

Chapter 71
Brielle shoved her head away in exasperation, flinging open the car door and stepping out. “That’s enough, really.”
Aubree handed her scarf back, “I’m just telling it like it is. The guy’s so distant, barely talks, and it’s hard to imagine him wanting
to leave all those marks on a woman’s skin. It’s like he’s not worried at all about your affair coming to light, you know?”
As Brielle wrapped the scarf around her neck, she pondered the question. Indeed, since she started sleeping with Max, he’d
never made any effort to hide their relationship. Was he truly fearless, or just didn’t care?
Aubree stepped up to her, a trace of seriousness in her eyes, “Look, fun is fun, but knowingly diving into an abyss? That’s not
you, Bri. You’re not like me. I fell for Andrew, and I can’t get back up.”
Just mentioning Andrew’s name seemed to steal Aubree’s breath. “Don’t fall for the wrong person.”
That was her advice.
Brielle didn’t know what to say; she instinctively wanted to dodge the topic. Everyone knew that falling for Max was like a moth to
a flame–you could easily get burned to ashes by his allure. And yet, some people seemed to court destruction, flirting with death.
There were countless such moths, so the question was: were the moths too foolish, or was the flame too bright?
They entered the apartment, and Aubree slumped into the sofa like she had no bones.
The ladies of the Beaconsfield social circles had their own little group chats, and now the chatter was all about Andrew’s watch
purchase.
Everyone thought Andrew bought it for Tessa, as he gave all his true feelings to that person.
Aubree pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a practiced flick of her lighter, and took a deep drag. After blowing a perfect smoke ring,
she touched the scar on her neck. It was a three–centimeter–long mark.
“You know I told you I got this scar from falling, right?” she said with a chuckle.
Brielle hung up her coat and grabbed a drink from the fridge, “Yeah, wasn’t that it?”

“Of course not. It happened when I was eighteen, after I drunkenly confessed to Andrew. I didn’t think to much. I figured after all
those years he knew me, he must have loved me. Bad luck that night, I stumbled upon Andrew confessing to Tessa in the
Clements family’s backyard. He got rejected outright.”
Aubree seemed to relive the scene as she took the cigarette from her mouth. “I never expected to witness that. For all the
arrogance Andrew showed every day, he too could be rejected. I feared he was heartbroken, so foolishly, I ran over to him,
declaring my love, suggesting we could be together. Andrew was still holding the rejected gift. For the first time, I saw
embarrassment and anger in his eyes. He threw the carefully wrapped present at me, and the sharp metal edge slashed my
neck like this.”
Her voice was calm as she touched the scar. “That night, he still came to my room, and I didn’t turn him away. He could hurt me,
then just crook his finger, and I’d forgive him. That’s love for you–someone’s always got to be the fool. But Bri, I don’t want that
person to be you.”
Max was hardly an improvement over Andrew. At least Andrew had a heart, even if it wasn’t for her. But Max? Did he even have
a heart to give?
He didn’t even have genuine feelings, elusive like winter snow. You thought you had caught it, but once the temperature rose, it
disappeared without a trace.