Page 23 of Cruel Lies

Of course, Angel would take this moment to torment me any way he could. "What do you care?" I moaned, hating him for seeing my moment of weakness. Fucking St. Clair would pay for this. Eventually.

"I care because you sound like you’re dying, and as much as I wouldn’t object to you suffering right now, I do very much objectto you leaving me alone with the crazy one." He put his hand against the back of my neck and winced, wiping it on his jeans as he marched to the sink and turned on the water. "Good grief, you’re stickier than a sap puddle in September. Here—wipe yourself off."

I took the wet, cool washcloth he thrust in my face and wiped away the sweat that had broken out all over my skin. I felt hot all over, no doubt thanks to the fucking liquor purge. My stomach turned again, and I groaned, wishing I could just curl up and die.

"How much did you have tonight?" Angel knelt beside me, unable to repress his caring nature even though he most likely didn’t want to see my fucking face. "A whole bottle?"

"A glass and a shot?" I replied, very unsure as to what counted as a single drink. "I dunno. There was clear tequila and old brandy involved."

"Oh, no," Angel bemoaned, "you weren’t drinking with St. Clair, were you?" At my half-assed nod, he just groaned again. "Oh, you sweet summer child, you need a shower, a cold one, and a cup of coffee. And then you need to go to bed and try to sleep." I heard him in the background muttering to himself, and couldn’t bring myself to care who he was talking to. His footsteps on the floor were too loud, pounding on the inside of my skull like a reminder that I’d fucked up.

"I think that shower sounds like a good idea," I groaned, standing on shaky legs as I made my way to my en suite bathroom. "See you later, alligator."

Angel gave me a weird look as I marched past him, his stare piercing my back like daggers as I rounded the corner and giggled my way to the bathroom like a fool. The water pelted me from above, a shiver running down my spine as someone yanked open the door and swore to themselves.

I realized there was something wrong with me when I only barely registered them picking me up off the floor, mutteringsomething aboutshowering in clothes,and oh, wouldn’t you know it, Iwasstill wearing my clothes—how odd.

I was stripped from head to toe, thrust into my bed, and covered with a blanket, the door left open so the light filtered in from the hallway. I could just barely make out the sound of Angel on the phone with someone, his tone argumentative and angry as they went back and forth. Words likedate rape drugandsoused as fuckandcan’t believe you,then some more grumbling as the water was switched on somewhere outside of my room.

Probably the kitchen.

My door creaked open again, and I peeked one eye open to see Angel setting a glass of water and a couple of pills on my nightstand. He met my gaze, shook his head, and sighed, brushing the wet hair from my face.

"Never drink with St. Clair again, you hear me? She’s dangerous when unsupervised."

"Got it," I whispered as I tried desperately to lift my hand to salute him. I failed, but I liked to think he got the idea. "You know, you’re a good brother, Angel," I droned, feeling floaty and abnormally feel-goody for me. I’d never share this typically, but something prevented me from bottling it up. It was like my filter was gone, the gates thrown wide open, and the ability to stop was gone. "I mean that."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he started, rolling his eyes.

I snatched his wrist in my grip, a part of me retaining my lightning-fast reflexes somehow. "No, I mean that. I fucked up, you know. I should have told you both back then. I just—I thought it was safer for you two not to know."

"Go on," he muttered, stilling in my grasp. "I’m listening."

I tried to sit up but obviously failed and just ended up tangling myself up in the sheets more. Angel’s laughter punctuated my failure, and I settled for covering my head in the blankets, hiding from the world. I didn’t want to face my shortcomings tonight. But I felt like I had to say something. Ididn’t want my brothers to leave me for a mistake I made seven years.

"I knew I couldn’t do it, when I looked in her eyes, man. I just—I dunno. It was the only time I’ve ever, you know, doubted myself. And she just—god man, don’t you remember what she was like back then? I fuckinghated herso much, but I?—"

I winced as my brain caught up to my mouth, and promptly stuffed my fist in it to keep from saying anything more.

As it turned out, I didn’t need to. Angel finished my thought for me. "But you didn’t, though. You didn’t hate her at all."

As he shut my door, I heard him mutter to himself, so low I almost missed it.

"None of us did."

TEN

NASH

Fallingasleep in the car wasn’t part of my plan. Neither was waking up to a strange man tapping on my window, his phone turned in my face with those annoyingly bright flashlights on, blasting light on my retinas that made me think I’d likely be blind when I blinked again.

I turned the damn car off and rolled down the windows—fucking crank handles,my GOD would it KILL him to upgrade this old fucking jalopy?—so I could reach out and drag the overly nosy man within inches of my own face with a grunt of disapproval and my hand around his throat.

"What thefuckdo you want?" I growled, my grin cracking the edges of the old scar where I’d been picking at it again. "Because you’re likely to be in far over your head if you tell menothing."

"I-I-I-I’m sorry, man, I just thought?—"

I dragged him damn near into the front seat with me, growling like a fucking dog now. I bared my teeth, enjoying the way he started to shake as he took stock of the monster whose face he was staring into.

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