Page 34 of Cruel Lies

She flushed scarlet from her head to her toes and refused to meet his eyes. "Sometimes, when you’re down on your luck, you gotta do what you have to to survive."

I suddenly felt even more like shit for my earlier comments about her past. I had a mom who’d had to do a lot for the sake of survival. Unfortunately, her choices led her to relapse and eventual overdose. Harper didn’t deserve the kind of life my mother had to lead.

After all, she was an heiress. And we took that from her and forced her into hiding.

Her life was off the rails because we switched the tracks out from under her. I couldn’t hate her for what she’d done to keep her head afloat.

"We’ve all done things we’re not proud of in the past," I found myself saying, hating how it sounded on my lips. Like some patronizing school counselor. "Fuck, why do I even care? I was ready to kill you ten minutes ago."

I moved to leave again, but her hand shot out and grabbed mine as I passed her seat, refusing to let me go. I shook it off, she attached it right back, like a fucking octopus with suckers in the ocean.

Her voice was small when she finally spoke, with just a hint of that familiar feeling of longing for something you are afraid you can’t have.

Just enough to make me feel bad.

"You hate me, don’t you, Angel?"

I jerked my arm free after a painfully long silence, scoffing at her tears. "I don’t hate you. I hate that you’ve complicated things." I met her gaze, hoping she wouldn’t make me say anything meaner, the weight of the hope there in those baby blue eyes killing me inside. "It’s hard to hate a dog after it’s just been kicked."

Forcing myself to turn away from her was one of the hardest things I’d done in my life. Refusing to turn around and apologize for the harm I knew I’d done was second in line. But listening to the sound of the silence I left behind as I closed my bedroom door, when I at least expected her to fucking cry?

That would stick with me for a long, long time.

FIFTEEN

NASH

"Respectfully,fuckAngel."

I had never in my life seen him intentionally hurt someone like he just had Harper. And I knew he didn’t mean it. Hell, we all knew he didn’t mean it. We all knew him, knew how he was. But the fact that he thought he had to shield himself from her by doing harm?

That was like a nail in the coffin.

Rowan had moved to sit on the other end of the couch, reaching out a hand to cover hers with a gentle, reassuring pat. "Just give him time, Harper," he muttered, trying to soothe her. Maybe he thought she needed it. Maybe he was afraid of her falling apart again. But whatever the case, she surprised us both when she stood up, stormed off in the direction of the kitchen, and hunted around in the cabinets until she found a pitcher.

"I don’t know if I like where this is going, Rowan," I stage-whispered. "Should I stop her, or are you planning to?"

"Whatever she’s got in mind is better than he deserves. Just let this play out." I suspected he was still pissed that he hadn’t managed to land a few blows on the fucker in the parking lot.

"If she stabs him, I’m blaming you," I quipped, settling in to watch the fun like the man in the popcorn-eating gifs.

Harper was seething. I could practically hear her teeth grinding as she filled the pitcher with water, then reached into the freezer for some ice cubes. She inspected her work, nodded in satisfaction, and marched her way over to the doors on the opposite side of the room. She didn’t need verification as to which one he was in—my door was still open. With a look borne of absolute fury, she kicked his door open and marched in, to the abject horror of what I guessed was an unprepared Angel.

I heard the water splash. Heard his shout of fury. And laughed as he marched back into the living room with her over his shoulder, a satisfied smirk on her lips until he practically dumped herinto my lap.

"Keep your eyes on this bitch," he spat, pinning Rowan with a stare. "If she comes in my room again and pulls a stunt like that, I’m killing her on the spot. Got it?"

Harper wasn’t one to be cowed easily, and she stuck her tongue out at him like a fucking brat. "Poor Angel. Now you’re all wet."

"You’re a fucking menace." He growled low in his throat, stooping to her eye level with a furious gaze. Even I wouldn’t fuck with him when he looked like that.

Harper was like a junkyard dog. A stubborn, stupid junkyard dog, but still a scrapper nonetheless. "And you’re a prick."

He reached out to choke her, thought better of it with a second of hesitation, and swore loudly as he spun on his heel and started to march away.

Harper wasn’t about to let him have the last say, though. She just had to egg him on.

"You know, Angel, I might be a kicked dog, but standing there like that, you remind me of a really wet pussy . . .cat."

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