Page 103 of Tell Me Something True

“No,” she said, slow and thoughtful, almost as if to herself. “I don’t think I will. Not tonight, anyway.” She pushed away from the counter. “I should go. Will you be okay by yourself?”

Mortification filled him, followed quickly by shame. The combination left him dizzy. Made him antsy. Angry.

Scared.

Because he had no idea how to answer that question.

“You do realize I’ve tried to kick your ass out of my house twice now?” he asked instead of answering her.

She made that humming sound that drove him nuts. “I’m aware. If you want to call someone to come over, I can wait until they get here.”

“No,” he said, then stalked past her.

“Or I could call them for you,” she continued, on his heels as he crossed to the garage door. “One of your brothers? Or Verity?”

That was the last thing any of them fucking needed. Urban had enough to deal with, what with running his own company, Verity getting ready to leave for college, and figuring out his new relationship with Willow. Toby worked over sixty hours a week at the restaurant, volunteered at the community center twice a week, and spent as much time with Ian as he could. And Verity was just a kid, one on the precipice of adulthood who was about to go through a major life change.

His family had been through enough for a lifetime. No way would he pile on more.

He owed them that much at least.

He whirled around only to realize too late how close Tabitha was. So close that he bumped into her, causing her to stumble back. He grabbed her upper arms, steadying her, but the feel of her skin, warm and soft, under his fingers, threatened to undo him.

Especially when she didn’t pull away.

Bad enough she was in his house, in his kitchen with her messy ponytail and bare feet and those goddamn leggings. That she’d sat on the floor with him and given him something he’d always wanted from her.

A small piece of her true self.

He couldn’t want more.

Not ever again.

Even if it did take more effort than it should for him to let go of her arms.

“Don’t call anyone.” He swallowed the fear rising in his throat, the panic at the thought of his family knowing what was happening to him. How he couldn’t control it. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Miles—”

“Please,” he added, soft and gruff, willing to beg if he had to.

She sighed. Then nodded. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He didn’t know if he believed her. Wasn’t sure he could ever trust her.

But he was a desperate man, so he’d take it.

With his own nod—the only gratitude he’d give her—he opened the garage door. “Don’t forget your shoes.”

Turning, she picked up the takeout menu from The Great Wall, his favorite local Chinese restaurant, off the table, along with the pen he had there. Wrote something on the corner then tore it off, and turned back and held out the scrap of paper.

“My number. In case you need me.”

Miles kept one hand on the door, the other at his side. Didn’t even glance at the paper. “I won’t need you.” He opened the door a little wider. “Goodbye, Tabitha.”

Her mouth turned down at the corners, but she didn’t insist he take it. Didn’t point out all the ways she’d already helped him. Didn’t call out his shitty, ungrateful attitude or demand he at least show some appreciation for the help she’d given him. Twice.

Instead, she slipped her feet into her flip-flops, brushed past him and left.

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