Page 25 of Brazen Deceits

Dragging my eyes away, I shoot down the path, focusing on the fancy houses instead of the gorgeous guy beside me. I’m surprised when RJ breaks the silence. “What about you? Any brothers or sisters to torment?”

I grimace. “No such luck. I’m an only child.”

“What’s that like?”

“Quiet,” I tease.

That only merits a soft huff, so no bone-jelly laugh for that one. Darn. “It was boring sometimes, but I got pretty good at entertaining myself. I didn’t have to fight with anyone for the bathroom or for the last piece of cake. I guess it was mostly fine.”

We keep pace around the other side of the lake, a yard covered in nearly bare apple trees on our right. A small sign invites people to come pick their apples, with a date from last weekend. At least the ultra-wealthy let us ruffians steal their apples occasionally.

RJ clears his throat. “Do you get along with your parents? I saw your dad at your race, but not your mom.”

I shake out my hands, trying not to let the anger take hold. “My dad’s great. He’s super supportive, kind, wonderful, playful. Really, I’m not sure I could imagine a better dad than I’ve got. My mom? She’s, well, she’s not very wonderful.”

My temper rises and the urge to sprint kicks in. I shoot RJ a grin that is probably closer to a snarl. “Race you to the next bench?”

“You’re on.”

We bolt, passing a few walkers and another runner, RJ’s long legs pulling him ahead. At the last second, I surge forward, and we tag the bench at the same time, grinning. I’m stupidly proud that we tied. Sometimes it sucks being a normal-sized female.

The sprint took the edge off my anger at my mom, so I let my mind wander as we trot back to the path again, the end of our loop closer than I would like. Why was I such an idiot these last few weeks? I’m grinning, laughing, and theconstant roil of frustration in my gut is finally calming. And I know RJ’s part of this turn for the better.

We’re back to our casual pace, but RJ spins, running backwards in front of me, watching my face. “Is your mom a no-go topic?”

Shit. I try to smile, but I know I’m failing at it. He shared a piece of himself earlier. I owe him one of my own. “No. It’s fine. I mean, I know she loves me. She just loves herself more. And she’s so busy worrying about herself, regretting all the choices she’s made, that she can’t seem to notice that I’m not her, that I have a life separate from whatever she imagined for me. And when I dare to point out that fact, somehow, I’m always the one apologizing, or else she hangs up on me, or gives me the silent treatment. It’s so fucking childish.”

I feel a curl flop down, wet against my neck, and yank out my hair, raking it back into shape. RJ keeps pace in front of me, waiting. I force the rest of my hurt into words. “She hasn’t talked to me for a month because I won’t get back together with Bryce. I’m not apologizing this time. She’s even nagged my dad about it. But I won’t. She can either care enough to trust me, to believe that I broke up with him for a damn good reason, or she can ignore me forever. I’m done with her brand of bullshit.”

It feels good to say it out loud, to admit that my mom is toxic. But it also feels like a corner of my heart is breaking, the part that just wants my mom to give me a hug and tell me she’s proud of me.

As much as I wish to hear that, I’m not going to hold my breath, hoping for a day that will never come. So I’mnot apologizing. I’m done with keeping the peace. It can all fucking go up in flames.

RJ stops me, his hands on my shoulders. He brushes my cheek, shivers following his touch. As he pulls his hand back, my tear perches on his thumb, wetting his skin. “It’s okay if the people we love let us down. It doesn’t make us any less for loving them. It just means we have to be careful how much of ourselves we’re willing to share.”

I swallow back more tears, not wanting to weep here on a running path in full view of whoever comes by. A few breaths later, I nod at RJ. Instead of turning around and finishing the run, he pulls me in for a hug, a cloud of citrus and sage enveloping me.

Wrapping my arms around him, his comfort calms the roar of rage still lingering under my ribs. I press my nose to his chest, breathing deeply, wanting to lock the smell of him in my brain, bolt it in a box along with the sound of his laugh, little pieces of RJ to carry with me and take out whenever I need him. Like paper dolls.

It wouldn’t be real, though. I’d always be hoping for the real RJ, not the tiny bits I’ve collected.

Eventually, I let out a sigh, and RJ pulls back enough for me to lift my head up and meet his gaze. “Better?” he asks.

I tilt my head to one side. “Mostly.”

He tugs me in for another hug, and before my stupid libido ruins a lovely moment with its horny-ass self, he pulls away.

Whew.

Instead, the space he leaves in front of me feels vacant in a soul-deep way, hollow without him there. I need him close, helping me keep the emptiness at bay.

“Want to finish up this thing?” he asks.

“Consider it done,” I say, forcing the last of my stupid angst down and away. I’m over that. I don’t want it.

RJ squeezes my hand before we both take off down the path. That little movement shifts something between us. Something’s different. New. The track I was on, and the one he was on, they both just clicked and shuttered, and we’ve been shunted to a fresh road, a new journey together. I opened the door, and he stepped through. I grin the rest of the way home.

Chapter 13

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