Page 43 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

She asks me more questions about my childhood. I tell her about growing up with Jayce, how we used to go on hunting trips with my stepdad before he passed, how my brother cried the first time he shot a deer.

I don’t mention my sister—or my mother, for that matter, although for a whole different reason—and if she notices, she doesn’t comment on it, which I’m grateful for.

I also don’t bring up my more recent past, and she still doesn’t ask. I know we will have to discuss it at some point, but I think for now, we are both too afraid to cross that bridge. Everything feels too new, too raw right now, and I think we both fear what will happen next.

There is a somber mood in the car on our drive back to her apartment.

I reach across the console, taking her small hand in mine, my thumb stroking over the reddened areas from where she has been picking at the skin around her nails.

I know she’s afraid I’m going to drop her off and disappear—because she told me as much—and if I was a better man, that’s exactly what I would do. Yes, it would hurt for a while, but she is young and would eventually move on.

I meant what I told her: she would be better off without me in her life, but now that I have held her in my arms, touched her, tasted her, I know I’m never letting her go. She might not realize it just yet, but she is mine. Mine to worship. Mine to protect.Just mine.

Pulling up to the curb in front of her apartment, I cut the engine, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand before getting out and grabbing her bags from the back.

When we get to the door, I give her the new keys and the security code to the alarm system—all of which I already have copies of—and show her how to turn it off and on.

She turns back to me, her face falling when she realizes I am not following her.

“You're not coming in,” she states, and I shake my head.

I want to. God, how I want to, but I need to go into work. Jayce has been singlehandedly managing the bar this past week in my absence, and I really need to step up and pull my weight. If I go inside with her now, I will find myself getting lost in Maggie and never leave.

Plus, I know she wants to check in with Jane.

“No. I need to go into work. I’m falling behind on paperwork because someone has kept me a little distracted,” I say teasingly, my hands circling her waist.

She bites down on her plump lip, and the sight makes me want to say fuck it and stay right here.

“Sorry,” she says, looking down at the ground. “I’ll…let you go then.” She tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold.

“Hey. What’s this about?” I ask, using the pad of my finger to trace the adorable pout she sports. “Baby, look at me.” I tip her chin up, catching her watery gaze. “What’s going on?” I ask, trying to figure out where her head is at.

“I don’t know. I’m being stupid. It’s just that…this feels like goodbye.”

“You can’t rid of me that easy. You’re mine now, LittleRose,” I say, nipping her on the nose. “I plan on keeping you.”

Her brows rise as shock colors her face, and I wonder if this is when I fuck it all up, reveal too much, and send her running for the hills. I’m relieved, however, when her face lights up and she throws herself into my arms.

Her legs come up to wrap around my waist, and I kiss her thoroughly, my tongue tangling with hers. I’m about to carry her into her house when something brushes up against my leg.

“What the…?” I pull back, glancing down to see a ball of wiry black fluff darting in and out between my legs.

“Mr. Darcy!” Maggie exclaims, wiggling out of my hold and bending down to stroke the ugliest creature I have ever laid eyes on.

“Is that cat—missing part of its ear?”

Maggie looks up still running her fingers through the animal’s shaggy fur, and for a split second, I find myself jealous of a damn cat.

“Archer, meet Mr. Darcy.” She stands, wiping her hands on her pants. “I’m surprised. He looks so much healthier than before I left. He’s never let me pet him like that before. Someone else must have been caring for him while I was gone,” she says, her whole face lighting up like the sun. I make a mental note to thank Jayce for taking care of the cat while she was with me. If I had known it would have made her this happy, I would have just brought the damn thing home.

Needing one last taste before I leave, I grab her by hernape and haul her mouth to mine. “I gotta go,” I say, pulling back. “Do me a favor and lock the doors when you go in, ok?”

She nods, turning to walk inside. I wait until I hear the lock click before getting in my car and heading to the bar.

Once there, I bury myself in work, my mood souring with each hour so that by the time Jayce busts into my office with some problem involving the catering company, I am ready to snap someone’s head off.

Apparently, Carolina—the mayor’s oh-so-charming wife—had a difference of opinion with the caterer we normally use for our larger formal events, leaving us to scramble to find a suitable replacement.

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