Page 216 of The Liar's Reckoning

I know exactly what he means. I don’t need for him to finish the sentence. It feels like we’re starting over.

Only to end it.

“So what do we do?” I ask.

“I don’t know if there’s anythingtodo. It just sucks. And I wish I tried harder. I wish we both had. You were worth it, but I just couldn’t see past the hurt. That’s all I’m saying.”

“And now?” I ask, daring for one shining moment to hope. “Is it too late?”

He gestures to a stack of boxes. “Well, yeah.”

“I still can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

“Moving? Or having this conversation.”

“Silas—moving. Why didn’t you just blackmail me when you had the chance?”

He gapes. “Are you serious?”

“You have everything you need. Texts. Videos. Phone records. My father would have given you every cent you were trying to get out of Avery.”

“Why the fuck do you think I didn’t do it? I don’t want anything from him.” He shakes his head, like he wants to reset. “Do we have to do this right now? We don’t even have twenty-four hours.”

I need to do it at some point, so while we’re on the subject, I don’t see any reason to change it.

“Silas, can we work?”

His eyes flash, and his shoulders tense.

“If I resigned from the senate today, could we?”

“You’re not gonna do that. I won’t let you do that. Not for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want that shit on my shoulders. Plus, you’re good at it Graham. I might hate your politics, but it’s not like you’re up there doing nothing and being useless.”

“Our politics aren’t all that different,” I remind him.

“What we stand for is. You say you’ve changed, and I have, too. I might have been happy being your secret back then, but it didn’t work out so great for me. To make it work, you’d have to go against everything you’ve ever stood for.”

“Noteverything,” I argue.

“Nearly everything.”

“Is that a dare?”

“No,” he says firmly. “That’s not what I want for you. Or from you.”

“Will you stop being so fucking proud?” I say. “You need help. You need money. You need—” I startle as he abruptly pushes away from the counter and charges toward me, grabbing me by the front of my t-shirt and crushing our mouths together again.

“You,” he practically growls. “I needyou.”

Responding with new fervor—because that was both the hottest, and most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me—I wrap my arms around him and let him in. Unlike the kiss at the door, this is rough and possessive, raw and deeply sexual.

It’s the answer I didn’t know I needed.

He walks me backward a few steps, our mouths still fused and tongues hyper-involved. We turn the corner into the bedroom and undress one garment at a time, kissing furiously after each article of clothing hits the floor.

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