Page 26 of Tell Me No Lies

Myra's lips tip up at the corners. "That's why I saw it coming. You both love to fight. It's one of your favorite things to do, and you love fighting with each other. I knew it wouldn't take a big jump for you guys to love doing other things together too."

I press my lips together, because not only is Myra way more observant than I thought, she's also guessing my little secret pretty accurately. "Sleeping with Tate would be a terrible idea."

It's an argument I've made to myself over and over again, both before, and after I accidentally fucked him. Both times. He's technically my boss. He’s also my next-door neighbor and a member of the family I've accidentally inherited.

I have all the same concerns now that we’ve fucked, but now he’s ruined me and I will never again be satisfied with single orgasm sex. Definitely not no-orgasm sex, which is the majority of the interactions I've been a part of. So the quality of the screwing has made it a little more difficult to keep arguing with myself.

"Probably, but you should still do it." Myra's eyes widen a little, and I glance out the window to see why. Simon’s got the hem of his shirt lifted up, dragging it across his forehead, exposing a pretty impressive set of abs.

"Does that mean you're going to sleep with Simon?" If she can call me out, then I'm not gonna feel bad about calling her out.

Myra lets out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping. "No." After one last look, she turns away from the window, carefully setting my braced foot on the floor before standing. "It wouldn't be fair of me. He deserves someone who isn't a fucking mess."

I watch as she quietly pads back through the kitchen. I know I should follow her up to bed, but I can't stop myself from turning back to the windows. My eyes follow Tate as he continues working. “What if some men like messes?”

Myra pauses, huffing out a quiet laugh. "Right."

"I'm serious." I am actually. "Think about it. These guys go out of their way to take care of women. To help them. Wouldn't it make sense that they might seek out the same thing in a relationship?"

If Myra notices my excitement, she doesn't mention it. Instead, she squints across the side yard to where Tate and Simon work. "Maybe?" Her attention swings to me. "Wouldn't they feel used?"

I see where she's going with this, and understand the parallel she's trying to draw, but the situation I'm thinking of isn't one-sided. "Not if they're appreciated and valued." I turn back to the window, nose nearly pressed against the glass. "And if they’re with someone who gives them something they need too." I don't know what she could give Simon, but I have a few guesses about what I could give Tate.

Watching him work on his house makes me think maybe I've already given him something. He hadn't touched it in years, and now he's stayed up late working on it with Simon the past few nights.

I would know. I've been watching.

Myra gives me a sad smile. "I guess that could probably work." Her expression falls. "If the other person has something to offer."

My heart breaks for her. When she first came to Memphis it seemed like she was going to grab life by the horns and make it her bitch. But then the man who'd held her back for so many years showed up on our doorstep and knocked every bit of positivity and hope out of her. I thought she would bounce back, but it doesn't seem like that's going to be the case.

I take one of her hands, giving it a squeeze. "Everyone has something to offer, Myra. Sometimes it's as simple as understanding, or being their safe space. We all have different needs." I sound like I know what I'm talking about. Like I've not been a train wreck for years. Like I don't go around biting everyone before they can bite me.

Myra's soft smile returns as she grips my hand back. "I'll try to keep that in mind, oh enlightened one." She pulls her hand from mine and stands up. "I should probably go to bed. Sitting here isn't doing me any good." She starts to walk away, but turns back. "It is probably doing you some good, though, since the reflection from the light on the garage means they can probably see in that window the same way we can see in theirs."

11

YOU HAD ME AT CHICKEN WINGS

TATE

BLINKING HARD, I try to clear the burning in my eyes and the blurring in my vision so I can read the bill in front of me. I've been burning the candle at both ends and it's definitely starting to catch up with me. Not only do my eyes feel like sandpaper, but my entire body aches, reminding me that I am not as young as I once was.

Simon and I have stayed up late the past handful of nights, hanging drywall in the back of my house. So far we've got the family room, where I spend most of my time, and the kitchen finished. We started on the open entryway, but the fucker is two stories high and proving to be a pain in the ass.

I'm determined to get those rooms finished and respectable looking. And although I’m not doing it for myself—I still don't necessarily feel the burning need to have a comfortable home—the motivation is purely selfish.

I want my place to be comfortable for Piper. Especially now that I know she doesn’t feel that way next door. I want her to have somewhere she can go and relax. Somewhere she can feel content and calm. And I want that place to also bring her closer to me. I shouldn’t but I do. The decisions I’m making will have fallout, but the more I’m around her, the less I’m starting to care.

Nancy breezes into my office, saving me from the stack of bills I'm slowly working through. She looks me over with a deep frown. "You okay? You look like shit."

"Thanks." I motion to the stack of papers in her hand. "Those more bills for me to deal with?"

She gives me a grin and a wink. "Smart man." She sets the stack down in front of me. "You need anything else from me? If not, I'm gonna cut out a little early. Got some errands to run."

I wave her off. "Go. Maybe the next person who comes in here won't tell me how awful I look."

Her head tips back on a laugh. "I doubt that." She shoots me a smirk. "You look pretty bad." Nancy’s still cackling to herself as she leaves me to finish paying for paint and parts and whatever else has been ordered from my suppliers over the past thirty days. I could have set my accounts with them up to autopay, but I can't stand not knowing where every penny that comes into this place goes. The fear of ending up with nothing again would keep me up at night. Especially since I’m not the only one who would suffer.

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