Page 6 of Tell Me No Lies

I glance down at the aging, hot pink walking cast on my ankle, frowning at its slightly frayed edges. Falling down stairs probably isn’t a great idea either. I’ve waited too long to be able to walk around without this uncomfortable thing making my steps wobbly and unbalanced.

The alarm on my phone goes off just as I’m weighing my sickness options, deciding between a migraine or food poisoning. I can't claim cramps, because Tate will know with certainty I am not on my period and I don't want him to think I'm skipping dinner tonight because of him.

Even though I am.

After pulling my phone free, I silence the alarm before turning to Nancy. "I’m going to head out and get this stupid thing off my foot."

Her smile seems a little bit brighter this time when she turns to me. "I bet you're thrilled."

I grin back because she’s right. "Thrilled is an understatement." I scowl down at the thick-soled sneaker on my right foot. "I can't wait to wear cute shoes instead of this stupid thing."

Nancy waves her hands at me, shooing me toward the door. "Go then. I can't wait to see what you pick for those feet on Monday."

I give her a little wave, daring a quick look at the still closed door of Tate's office as I walk to the side entry leading to the tiny employee lot.

I blow out a long breath as I drop into the driver’s seat of my well-loved third-hand sedan and start the engine, leaving the door open. It takes a second to turn over, but as soon as it does, I crank up the air conditioning. When the breeze blowing through the vents would no longer melt lava, I shut myself in and back out.

I don’t want to skip dinner tonight. I want to see Jill and Felicity and the rest of my new group of friends. But the thought of skipping dinner isn’t what has me frowning so hard I might actually end up with a migraine.

I swore I would never let a man dictate my life in any way, and if I don’t do something I want to do because of Tate, that’s exactly what I’m allowing to happen. It will make me no better than my mother. I’ll wind up sliding down the same slippery slope she did, and everything that’s happened—all I’ve done—will be for nothing.

That’s not an option. It never will be.

So, no matter how twisty my stomach gets at the thought of seeing Tate tonight, it has to happen.

Hopefully he survives it.

3

WAIT FOR IT…

TATE

"YOU DOING OKAY?" Christian invades the quiet corner I’ve been sulking in, undaunted by the scowl on my face.

Family dinner isn’t at the top of the list of places I want to be tonight, but I couldn’t come up with a way to get out of it. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I wanted to see how Piper would handle crossing paths with me now that I’ve gone and fucked everything up.

"I'm fine." The lie is clipped and sharp. A not-so-subtle hint he should leave me alone. I’m not in the mood for company, especially his. I want to wallow alone in my disappointment and misery.

Christian takes a drink from the bottle of beer clutched in his hand, looking unbothered by my shitty attitude. "That's good, because I need you to come to my place after dinner. Myra finally heard from her friends."

I drag my attention from the place it’s rested all night, putting my eyes on the man beside me instead of the woman I can’t seem to leave alone. "When?"

"Earlier today." Christian keeps his voice low. Even though the men we call our brothers now know what we do in our free time, there are still plenty of other people in this house who don't need to be reminded of the bullshit that goes on in the world. “We should come up with some sort of a game plan tonight. So we’re ready to go as soon as the opportunity arises. I want to get this over and done with so we can put it behind us." Christian’s gaze lingers on where his girlfriend Lydia stands with Jill and Piper at the kitchen island. As if she can feel the weight of his stare, Lydia's eyes move toward us, and she gives Christian a soft, sweet smile.

In almost the same breath, Piper’s head snaps my direction, eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring as her lips purse, giving me a look that could kill. I snort at the stark and predictable difference in their reactions, a reflection of who each woman is at her core. Lydia is sweet and soft and gentle. Piper is...

A fucking tornado.

And if I’m not careful, she’ll tear my whole life apart.

Forcing my eyes from her yet again, I nudge Christian with one elbow. "Go to your girl. I've got shit to do at home. Let me know when you’re ready." I stand before he can argue—and I know he will. Christian will want me to stay. He’ll want me to spend the night surrounded by people instead of alone, but I can't.

For a multitude of reasons.

No one notices as I slip out the front door, quietly making my way across the street to my house. The outside of it is just as overgrown and dilapidated looking as Christian’s used to be. The front yard is nothing but overgrown weeds and a sidewalk that’s only half visible thanks to the dirt taking it over. The cement stairs leading to the front door are cracked and crumbling, the brick red paint slathered on them back when it served as a low-rent industrial space so chipped it’s barely visible.

And the inside looks even worse.

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