Page 34 of Under the Lies

Fuck.

So innocent. So perfect.

I have this need to tarnish her shine.

“What?” I repeat.

Sayer doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at me.

I don’t have time for this.

After I drop Sayer off, I have to go down to Kelly’s, a bar on the opposite end of the city, to talk to a certain Irishman on an arrangement he hasn’t made good on.

I’m not a patient man.

I turn away when she tugs back on my hand still in hers.

“You have three seconds to start talking, Sayer.” I whirl around to face her.

“I don’t think I should go in there.”

A displeased sound rumbles in my throat. “And why’s that?”

“It’s—” she breaks off, wringing her hands. Nervous. She’s nervous.

She’s scared to go in there. I see the worry lining her deep gray eyes. Maybe there’s a fourth thing that hasn’t changed about Sayer Brooks. She doesn’t want to be the center of attention.

Closing the space between us, I tilt her chin up to face me. My thumb traces her bottom lip. Those gray eyes fluttering as she parts them. For me.

This is what I mean. She’d let me take from her before she even realizes what’s happening. I could easily replace my thumb with my lips and she’d lean into that just like she’s leaning into me now.

My free hand fists at my side. “It’s a little too late for that, Sayer.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I just thought I’d be honest.”

Because that’s what she wants between us.

Honesty.

No bullshit.

So different from her sister, who didn’t care if I lied or cheated or took from her as long as she was with me in the end.

The Brooks sisters have always been opposites, even in their outward appearances. It’s always fascinated me. Sayer’s the blond to Harlow’s brunette, the gray eyes to other’s blue.

Back when I was a teenager I often questioned if my family was still alive, would I have been like Harlow? The outcast? Or would I be as groomed as Sayer? Back when I was desperate to know where the fuck I belonged.

Now, I don’t really give a shit. They’re gone and I’m still here.

Callous, but true when I’ve been around longer than I had them.

Mourning people I don’t remember doesn’t seem like a viable use of my time.

Pushing my dead family to the wayside, I focus on Sayer.

On how different from her sister she is.

Differences I want to discover.

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