Page 72 of Love Him Like Water

I’d gotten a look at Lore’s sleeping face early that morning, the bruise taking on some yellow and green around the edges, making it look worse even as it started to get better. The lip, at least, looked mostly healed.

“Lore didn’t say anything?” Cage asked, head tipped to the side.

“Haven’t talked to her yet,” I admitted, watching as Cage’s brows drew together.

Confused.

It didn’t strike me until then how little I knew about Lore’s days. What she did. Who she talked to.

Apparently, not her family.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I mean, I imagined shit had gotten strained about the wedding alliance. The wedding had been a powder keg of tension. So if she’d had some disagreements with her family leading up to the event, maybe they were struggling to get past that.

Still.

That was her family.

And despite having almost a whole lifetime of hard feelings toward the Costas, I didn’t like the idea of her having no contact with them.

Avery was probably the best person to have shown up, though, since she knew us better than the Costas did. She also hadn’t been with the Costa family long, so wouldn’t be so overprotective of Lore.

“Huh,” Cage said. “Figured maybe she would text you about it.”

Text me about it.

Maybe she would have.

If she had my number.

Which I’d never given her.

I didn’t have her number either.

If I wanted to get in touch with her, I’d have to do it through whichever guard was at the door.

That was… kind of fucked up.

“How’s Avery doing?” I asked, wanting to change the subject, not wanting my crew to think something was wrong with this marriage I’d insisted upon, despite a lot of fucking objections.

“Good. Good. Seems happy,” he said, then started to talk to someone who moved in at his side as, suddenly, Elian walked into the apartment, searching the crowd, finding me, and… glowering.

He fucking glowered at me.

The fuck?

I tossed back my drink and made my way in his direction as he looked in the oven, then the fridge.

What the hell was he looking for? Did he leave some food around and thought I ate it or some shit?

I moved around the island as he yanked open the cabinet with the garbage can, then pulled it out.

“You fuck,” he hissed, shaking his head.

“You talking to me?” I asked, brows raised.

Sure, we called each other names all the time. It was part of growing up together, despite the power imbalance that came into play when I took control of the family.

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