Page 21 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

“Um…. They didn’tletme do anything. But yeah. I had called a car, and it was only a few feet up the road.” He clenches his jaw so hard, I swear, I hear a tooth crack.

“Anyways…family—I guess I don’t really know,” I say, honestly. “I was adopted and from what I was told, my father died soon after I was born, and my birth mom, I hardly know.”

I think back to the one picture I have of a dark-haired women holding me as an infant. I’ve only met her a handful of times over the years, usually when she would show up sometime around my birthday, but she never stayed long.

She always had this sad, haunted look in her eyes and almost never smiled. I don’t know precisely what demons she battles, but from my limited interactions, it was clear she made the right decision in giving me up—not that that makes it hurt any less.

As bad as it might sound, I kind of hated when she came around. I would try to pretend I was happy to see her, not wanting to hurt her feelings, but her visits were just a reminder that I wasn’t enough for her and would leave me feeling empty and hollow.

I was glad when she finally stopped. Still, every year on my birthday, some package with a present or a card shows up, and though it’s not always signed, I know it’s from her.

“My birth mother gave me up when I was still a baby. I’ve met her a couple of times, but she never hung around long. I’m pretty sure she’s addicted to drugs,” I say quietly, picking at the skin around my nails.

At his continued silence, I chance a glance over at him, expecting to see pity in his eyes, but I exhale in relief when instead I’m met with understanding.

“Anyways…” I continue. “I suppose there could be a connection there, but I highly doubt it. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in a few years. Do you really think someone might be after me?”

He looks at me with a slight frown, worry lines etched across his forehead, and I watch as they smooth out and that cold indifferent mask he often wears returns. Even though I barely know the man, I have decided I hate that look the most.

“I don’t know, but if there is, I’ll find out. In the meantime, I will have someone look into your mom, see if there’s anything there,” he says before standing abruptly and walking back towards the house.

I jump to my feet, jogging to catch up to him.

“Wait—” I call to him, grabbing him by his forearm. His skin is warm, and my grip tightens slightly, as I feel his muscles flex under my touch. He makes an impatient noise, and my eyes snap up.

No longer does he wear that indifferent mask. Instead, I am meet with a hard, steely gaze. I snatch my hand back, horrified at the realization that I was just feeling him up. I should know better than most not to touch some without their consent.

“Oh God—I’m so sorry,” I apologize, shame coating the back of my throat. “I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I?—”

He holds up a hand, stopping me. “It’s fine,” he says.

“No, it’s…”

“Maggie, seriously. It’s fine,” he cuts me off. “Now, what did you need?”

“Okay…” I say grateful, he’s letting me off the hook. “I guess I’m confused on what you meant by having someone look into my mom. I thought you owned a bar.”

“I do.”

“So were you, like, a former police officer or something?” Come to think of it, that would explain him wearing a gun and the whole overprotective hero complex thing.

He looks away, and I notice the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Or…something.” When he doesn’t elaborate further, my mind immediately goes to the worst, coming up with every wild possibility imaginable— ex-military, secret agent, assassin, mafia…

“Please tell me you’re not in the mafia?” I blurt out, my voice coming out a touch too high, and I watch as he fights back a smile.

“No. I am not in the mafia,” he finally answers, and I sigh, relieved. Good. While that may be hot in books, I don’t think I could handle it in real life.

“I do, however, have a very good friend who owns an IT company that specializes in security software. So…let's just say if thereisanything to find, he will find it.” He starts walking back to the house, and I follow at his side.

“In the meantime, you’ll stay here, where you will be safe. I’m gonna have him get someone to install a security system in your apartment, and we’ll need to find someone to fix the damages as well,” he says, making my head spin as he starts listing all these things I can’t afford to do.

First off, I don’t have that kind of money. I have a hard enough time making enough to cover my rent, which is why I basically live in a shoebox.

Second, he’s over there talking about me staying here with him. I don’t even know wherehereis. And what about Jane? My job? My friends? What would I tell them? How would I even begin to explain everything? He must sense my rising panic, because suddenly, he is right there, his warm hands on my cheeks.

“Hey. Breathe, sweetheart. What’s wrong? What just happened?” he says, his gray eyes frantically searching mine.

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