Page 168 of Pretty Little Lies

His sandy blond hair is askew, but it doesn’t take away how fucking edible he looks like he got caught in a windstorm or catching a wave.

“You are,” Torin responds back with a sliver of irritation, but then he raises his chin and puts on his big boy face. “I was just taking her to get some lunch.”

Reeve’s expression doesn’t falter a sliver. “Great.” Then his fingers are suddenly wrapping around my wrist and pulling me from Torin’s hold. “We’ll be back.”

My feet stumble a bit before my brain catches up, and that’s when I give a small yank on my limb to get him to release me. “I’d rather not.”

We’ve never fought, and I hate it. But I’m not ready to face that conversation, nor do I want to hear his side. I’m fully aware it’s not fair, but I just want a day when I’m not getting hit upside the damn head with something.

Today’s already out.

Reeve doesn’t stop, for once, not give a flying fuck about what I want or say, as he continues guides me down another hallway.

He opens a random door and gives me a slight shove inside by the base of my spine when darkness fills the space around me.

Within another second, the lights turn on, illuminating a plain as hell room with a small desk, two chairs in front of it and ugly green curtains.

Then whipped around, my hair slaps me in the face when Reeve’s on me, forcing me backward and farther into the room.

“You’ve been neglecting me,” he leers with displeasure laced in each and every single word. “And I don’t like it.”

I scoff. “Do you think I give a shit right now?” I meet his frown with one of my own, and I can’t help the itch in my fingertips that wants to run this his disorderly hair. “I can’t trust you.”

“But you can trust Torin?” His features clash together, like that doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t. “Why, because he shows up like a douchebag knight in shining armor?”

“No, because he tells me straight up what he thinks and does.”

“When the fuck was I supposed to bring that up, McQueen?” He takes another menacing step forward. “You’ve been doing a lot of shit behindmyback in the last forty-eight hours that you’ve decided not to talk to me.”

“Like what?”

“Like agreeing to date Torin.”

“So?” My ass hits the edge of the desk, then and I have nowhere else to go, so I lift my chin in defiance. “I thought he was my hall pass?”

“You think I wanted to find that out byhim?”

Obviously not.

And I wouldn’t put it past Torin to have done it on purpose.

“He’s an asshole.”

Reeve’s hands find my hips, and I flinch, not in disgust, but because he touched me. I hold back the small gasp thatalmost breaks free from my lips and demand my body to relax. Everything about him calls to me. I want that soft breeze of ease that he gives me so freely. The undeterred knowing that I never have to worry about Reeve hurting me.

But he’d hurt my father.

“How do we hash this out?” Reeve mutters above me, hazel eyes glued to mine. “Because I’m losing my mind over it.”

“Maybe you should stop taking jobs that involve killing innocent people.”

“I was told that your father was an evil man who kept little kids in basements.”

My brows clash together. “Who the hell told you—”Emilio.

I inhale, hoping that fresh air will rid me of all the animosity and rage that I feel for my father.

“It hit home, McQueen.”

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