Page 93 of Burning Your Lies

Her eyes narrow. “You try having sex with a man that is clearly imagining someone else. The only thing he hasn’t done is call out your fucking name.”

I have to cover my mouth to stop my laughter. “He is a power-assertive man, for sure. Always wanting to remind you who is in control.”

“Well, you must have enjoyed it if you banged him for that long. Don’t get me wrong, he knows what he’s doing and I’m not saying it’s not a good time, but fucking hell. A little eye contact wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Brynn gives in and laughs with me.

“He wasobsessedwith me looking at him. It’s like he couldn’t get off unless I was staring into his soulless eyes.”

She tops our glasses up. “So you preferred Huxley then?” She stares at me when I don’t answer. “I say that without judgement. Women are shamed in double when they commit an affair compared to men. The last man I involved myself with was screwing someone else, and when I called him out on it, he felt no shame and the world let his sin slide. If it were the other way around, I would have been stoned to death.”

Was that why she left her home? Because of heartbreak?

I chortle at her over exaggeration. “I won’t be shamed for having sex. I think my shame comes from the hurt I caused Emery and Huxley. They both deserved better from me. But I was just desperate to feel loved and wanted. Xavier was excellent at doing that. It doesn’t excuse it, but it’s the truth.”

She clinks her glass against mine. “Agreed. He knows how to say and do the right thing.”

“What happened to the man who cheated on you?”

“I killed him.” She arches her brow at me. “Don’t look so surprised. I would do it again. It was truly the only time I understood what happiness felt like. And then I gave myself a little more happiness when I killed her, too.”

42

Huxley

I am not aman of nerves, but as I stand opposite the chipped door, my body won’t stop shivering. Inhaling deeply, I knock on the door. It takes a few seconds before it opens and an older woman is staring at me. “Good evening. My name is Huxley Ray. May I come in?”

She eyes my tailormade suit with suspicion. “Who are you? Does my stupid son owe you money?”

An unfamiliar ache presses against my chest. I shake my head. “Apologies ma’am. I am not here to collect a debt. I am here to pay one.”

Confusion douses her. “Who lent you money?”

“May I please come in? I assure you, I am not here to cause any trouble.”

With hesitation, she pulls the door open and moves to the side to let me into their small hallway. The petite woman leads me into a room that’s the same size as my closet. Though outdated, it has a homely feel to it. She gestures to the chunky sofa, choosing to sit on the chair opposite it.

As I look around, I realise why Jordan wasted his life gambling. He wanted to give his family more than they could afford. His mother looks like her bones are going to break any moment; probably from working her whole life to keep her family afloat.

“Is your husband home?”

“Daniel! There’s a man in a suit here!” She grumbles under her breath as she waits for her husband to join us. “Old man is probably sleeping.”

She’s proven wrong when a bald gentleman enters the room. Like his wife, he looks at me with suspicion. “What did that boy do now? Did you tell him we don’t got nothing to steal? Those last boys took the TV.”

“I’m not here for that.”

“Why are you here?”

That is a good question. Nobody asked me to come. I owe nothing to these people. Except I can’t stop thinking about Jordan. That day we went to visit Henry keeps popping into my head; when he spoke about how he’s an only child and his parents have no one to take care of them. While I can’t rectify that, I can take away one burden from them.

I place an envelope on the small square coffee table. “This is money I owe Jordan for some work he did for me.”

His dad shakes his head and scowls as he says, “We don’t need no blood money.”

“It’s not blood money. It’s honest money he earned.”

His mother asks, “Where is my boy? He hasn’t been home in some time.”

Her husband replies before I can. “He’s probably drunk in some casino. What else?” The exhaustion from Jordan’s sickness is written on his face.

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