Page 59 of Knotting With A Stranger

“Yes,” James answers simply, his expression unreadable.

“How long were you in there for?” I press, ignoring the confusion from the others.

“Eighteen months.”

“Did you kill someone?” I tense all over.

James’s jaw tightens. “No. I was framed and wrongly blamed for a theft I didn’t commit.”

“You often lie to people?” I continue, the words coming rapid fire now.

“Uh, seems like a lot of questions without any bottle spinning,” Archer interjects, looking between us. “Have the rules of the game changed?”

I ignore him, my focus entirely on James, who hasn’t broken eye contact.

“Only when I don’t want to scare someone away,” he answers quietly. “When I want a chance to properly tell them the truth later.”

“So you’re okay with leading someone on, making them believe you’re something you’re not?” I challenge.

“What the hell is going on?” Hunter asks, looking between us. “Did you two know each other before this weekend?”

“No,” James says firmly, at the exact moment I say, “Yes.”

Archer’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, this just got interesting.”

“We’ve been texting for weeks,” I clarify, still glaring at James. “He never mentioned he was in prison.”

“You two were texting?” Hunter asks, something unidentifiable flashing across his face. “Oh, so that was the burner phone you got busted with in prison? The one they threw you into isolation an extra week before the lawyers got you out?”

James shoots Hunter a warning look, but the damage is already done.

“It started with a wrong number,” I explain, the words tumbling out now that the secret’s in the open. “I texted him,thinking it was to my sister. We got to talking, and then... we just kept going.”

James appears uncharacteristically flustered. “Lily?—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt. “You flirted with me for weeks. I told you things I’ve never told anyone else. And all that time, you were lying about who you were.”

“I wasn’t lying about who I was,” James argues, leaning forward. “Just... certain details.”

“Like the fact you were in prison?” I counter, my knee bouncing—nerves, anticipation, and dread all twisting inside me. A voice in my head warns me not to do this now, but I can’t stop. Not when the anger has been building for so long. Not when he disappeared without a word. Not when he never told me the truth.

The room goes quiet. Hunter and Archer exchange surprised glances.

“That’s not something you drop into casual conversation,” James murmurs. “‘Hey, by the way, I’m getting out of prison soon. Want to keep texting?’“

The words hit hard, knocking the air from my lungs. I stare at him, my throat tight, my pulse pounding in my ears. The messages—the late-night conversations that had felt so real, so safe—had all been built on a lie. I had let myself fall, let my guard slip, believing I knew him. And now, I don’t know if anything between us was ever real.

Shame burns through me, hot and unforgiving. How could I have been so naive? How could I have let him in without ever questioning who he really was? My heart clenches painfully, the weight of betrayal settling deep in my chest.

Had he been laughing at me all this time? Amused by how easily I had trusted him?

I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat refuses to go away. I want to scream at him, to demand why—why hethought I didn’t deserve the truth—but I can’t find the words. Because underneath the betrayal, underneath the anger, there’s something far worse.

This hurts.

More than it should. More than I want to admit.

“I was going to tell you,” James insists. “I wanted to explain in person. I had plans to visit your bakery yesterday, then this storm hit. And here we are.”

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