Page 87 of Cruel Lies

"I don’tneedanyone. I lived seven years just fine on my own, and tomorrow, I’ll go back to that life and do it all over again."

That realization hit me like a ton of bricks in the chest. She was right; in less than twenty-four hours, she’d be going back to her life, and we’d be left picking up the pieces she left scattered on the floor. So what did it matter now what she did?

I couldn’t answer that, for fear I wouldn’t like the answer.

"Harper," I tried again, aiming for her weak points, "don’t make Rowan worry."

A flash of white around the edge of a high bush alerted me to her location. I did my best not to give away that I could see her. "He’ll survive. Hell, he’s going to sacrifice his whole life for mine. Why does he get to be the only self-sacrificing asshole around here? Why can’t I solve all your problems and walk away?"

I stepped a foot in her direction and lowered my voice,pretending to be further away as I closed in on her. "I’m tired, Harpie girl. Let’s not argue out here anymore. Let’s go back inside, and you can yell at me until you’re out of air for all I care."

She shifted against the trunk of a nearby tree, and I inched closer again, holding my breath as she worked out another response in her head.

I lunged a second too late.

She had just opened her mouth and turned in my direction, and spotted me just inches away from her. The fucking girl bolted like a rabbit chased by a fox, and now I was left chasing her again. This time, though, I could tell she’d lost some of her speed, so I gained on her in no time.

I caught her just as she rounded the corner to the back field, and we went down in a tangle of limbs, rolling right into the fucking fountain at the edge of the courtyard.

Great, now we’re all wet.

Not how I planned to spend my fucking night.

I could feel the curves of her body against mine as she bucked and fought me, squeals of indignation punctuating her yelps of pain and insistent demands to be let go. Fuck, with every second she stayed in my grip, my cock grew harder, obviously not satisfied with our little tryst the other night at the end of that leash and collar.

I didn’t want to want her. I didn’t deserve her. But at the same damn time, she was everything I wanted in one fiery, fierce, stubborn package.

"Fuck you, Harper," I spat, grabbing her by the wrists to pin them to her sides. "Stop squirming."

She huffed in indignation and turned those stunning baby blues on me, shimmering with those tears as they finally fell, coating her soft skin with tracks of pain and agony and defeat. "I hate you, Nashville Blackwood. I hate all of you."

I threw her over my shoulder with a grunt, pretending itwasn’t effortless to lift her lithe body in my arms. "Yeah, most people do. What’s one more?"

I couldn’t let her know how those words stung, how they carved a hole in my fucking heart and scooped out the last of my humanity. She thought I was a monster. I had to make her think she was right.

If she hated me, she wouldn’t miss me.

That’d be best for her. To forget us all when she left and never speak a word to anyone about where she’d been or who she’d been with. She didn’t need a bunch of broken dolls in her dollhouse. She could go somewhere, do something, when that money hit her accounts. Tomorrow, she could claim it and get far the fuck away from here if she wanted to.

Away from Port Wylde and all the bad memories it housed for her. For us.

She fought me valiantly as I took the stairs two at a time, but when I burst back through the door and kicked it closed behind me, she didn’t fight. She just let me carry her over to the kitchen counter, where I sat her as I snapped at my youngest brother.

"Bring me a bath towel or two, Ro."

His eyes skimmed over the two of us, and the asshole had the nerve to burst into laughter as he disappeared into his office and beyond. When he returned, he had two towels in hand, and he threw one at me as he made to move toward her with the other.

I couldn’t let him steal my thunder. If this was the last night I could touch her, have her near me, then I wasn’t about to waste a single moment of it.

The soft fabric tickled my hands as I tossed it on her head and turned her into a temporary ghost, rubbing viciously at her black mop of wet hair despite her protests.

"Nash, stop—wait, dammit, you’re fucking my hair up—Nash!"

She fought me for control and in our scuffle, it opened up an opportunity for Angel to butt his ass in. He yanked the towelfrom my grip in a flash, then set to work tugging loose her ponytail as she straightened her spine and sat still as a statue for him. When those wet strands of black hair fell against her throat, clung to the side of her face, she watched me watch her face as Angel tugged sections of it free and gently patted it dry with the towel now in his possession.

Fucker had to steal my chance, too. Of course he did.

Angel took all the fun out of things.

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