Page 28 of Spiteful Lies

Roni isn’t coming back until Monday, and I keep staring at her empty bed. She texted me late last night then sent a photo of her and Terri smiling into the camera. Thank God they were dressed. In the picture behind them were a lot of trees, and maybe he took her to his grandmother’s orchard. She talked a lot about wanting to go. I toss my phone onto the bed face down so I’ll stop checking it. I’m only annoyed because Roni’s smart enough to only be in love with one guy.

Last night, I kept texting Bryce until I finally tried calling. No answer, and none from Charlotte either. I know he worries about her, and I’m glad I told him. He’d be upset if I hadn’t told, but I’m starting to get nervous. Where are they? Why won’t they answer?

Charlotte is my sister, and no one better say she’s not. I don’t get it. How could Howland bring her up and then cut her off? All those years I wished I had a dad, and to think I was better off without him. I swear I wish I never met Howland. I’ve never hated anyone so much.

My phone chimes, and I grab it off the bed. I smile when I read the text.

Bryce: Open the door.

I leap off the bed and swing the door open. I don’t care if anyone sees us. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a kiss. Our mouths sloppily press together as I giggle. I’m so freaking happy to see him. He walks me backward into the room and slams the door shut behind us.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper as I hold him tight against me. Taking in his warmth, I press myself against his hard frame and lean my cheek against his chest.

Smiling, Bryce leans back to look at my face. “I can tell,” he teases.

He kisses me harder than before, as if he wants to be a part of me. Bryce holds onto me as if he dares to let me go, I might slip away. What’s wrong? In a haze, I wonder where this need is coming from as he parts my lips with his. I wrap my arms around his neck and touch his tongue with mine, feeling hungry for his touch again. We shouldn’t do this here, but I don’t care as I tug him toward the bed. We tumble down onto the mattress, and he presses against me as I wrap a leg around him. I’d fuck him silly right now if our clothes weren’t in the way.

Bryce pulls back, gripping my hands and pulling them off him. “We have to talk,” he says.

It’s too tempting to stay like this. I won’t be able to concentrate, so we detach. We sit close together on my twin bed, our backs against the walls as our shoulders touch. His hand takes mine, and I hold onto him, so glad that Bryce is back.

“Did you talk to Charlotte today?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Not since the harvest program,” I sigh and lean my head on his shoulder. “I want to find out if she told Rawlins the truth. I feel guilty telling you, but I’m not sure how much I can do on my own.” His shoulder tenses under my cheek, and it feels as if I’m leaning my head on a rock. I raise my head and watch his jaw working under the skin. Something is very wrong.

“I’m sorry about how my father acted,” he finally says.

“That’s all? It’s a lot, but we couldn’t have been so naïve to think it would be easy. And we’re not.” I squeeze his hand. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I have a difficult father too.”

Bryce takes his hand back as he stares straight ahead. “No, Astrid. I have to make it clear that I don’t think that way. I might’ve once. And it was shocking to see it and realize I once was that way. Once I treated you that way.”

I touch his shoulder lightly, trying to stop his spiral down. He might say the wrong thing. Something he won’t be able to take back. “Don’t. It’s okay.”

“Astrid, I want to make it clear that I was ashamed of what he said. It’s no contest. If I have to choose, I’m choosing you.”

“Don’t. I don’t want to cause this.” I move away from him so our thighs no longer touch. Bryce can’t end up like Charlotte. “What will you do if he cuts you off? I know how hard it is not to have a father. I might talk like it was no big deal, but it was. A crap dad has to be a real piece of shit to not want his kids at all.”

Tilting his head back, Bryce scoffs. “My father threatens to cut me off every time I see him. On every major holiday. The first time, it stung, but he’s made that threat for way too long. Long enough for me to wise up and have a backup plan. He’s flexing, but he won’t be able to for much longer.” He sighs, and the hardness leaves his face. His lips pout slightly, and I’m tempted but not yet. Is he holding back?

“What other secrets are you hiding from me?” I ask.

Startled, Bryce looks me in the eye. “What do you mean?”

“I know you well,” I smirk, placing my hand on his strong thigh. “You’re hardly touching me, and we have the room to ourselves.”

He pulls my hand off his leg. Fuck, I was right. “I have something else to tell you,” he says. “I don’t want to tell you, but I have to. I proposed to Charlotte. To save her. I don’t love her. I love you, but Charlotte…we grew up together. I couldn’t abandon her. It didn’t feel right. I’m sorry.”

Desperately, he stares into my eyes, and the pain is unconcealed. He didn’t cheat. I know in my heart that he didn’t, and it feels a little strange, Bryce apologizing for being with someone else when I do it every day. I’m not sure how I feel, but it’s not anger or fear. Maybe I wouldn’t have minded if he married Charlotte, but only if he stayed with me.

I lean into Bryce, pressing my lips against his mouth and pulling him closer. We move apart, his eyes lowered as if he wants to say more. But he doesn’t need to. I’ve forgiven him with a kiss. Bryce tugs me close again, pressing his mouth hard into mine. My breasts rub against his hard chest, and the heat starts to stir between us. We’re going to end up naked in this bed. But first, I have to say something, and I gently push him away.

I close my eyes, and it’s easier to say. “I love you too.”

A short burst of laughter escapes his lips. “You should be angry with me, Astrid, not kissing me,” he says, but his hands don’t leave my body.

“Bryce, I’m not angry with you, because you’re not an asshole.” I shake my head in dismay. How can he not get it? “Why should I be angry with you…” I stare into his eyes to make a point. “How can I be angry with you for not acting like an asshole?” Hugging him close, I whisper my words. “All the time, you pretend like you don’t give a shit. If you really didn’t, I wouldn’t bother with you. But I’m worried about you, Bryce. What are you going to do? Can you really walk away from your father?”

“My father’s pulled my strings long enough, Astrid,” he replies in a firm voice, “It’s not a rash decision to chuck it all away, and I’m not. I’ve been planning my own life, and my plans never matched his.”

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