Page 81 of Addicted Lies

“Ummm.” I startle at the sound of Jewel’s voice. “Did you find the vanilla extract?”

Just then, the pantry door opens, and Ford steps out, doing his pants up with one hand and holding a bottle of vanilla extract in the other.

“Got it.”

Jewel bites her bottom lip, nods once, then leaves. There’s no fucking way she doesn’t know. We’re so bad at this. We might be addicted to lying and sneaking around, but the bigger this secret is, the worse we become at hiding it.

I turn back to find him staring at me as if he’s bracing for what I’m about to say or do. His cheek is a stark red from where I slapped it, and a part of me feels a little guilty. That is until the voice of my brother rings out through the house. Both of our gazes snap in the direction of the door.

“He can know,” Ford says.

“Know what?” Dutton asks as he pushes through the door.

I school my features, giving him a fake smile as I lean up to give him a hug.

“I ended things with Matthew,” I tell him. He releases me and meets my eyes.

“Good.” He nods to Ford and then notices the handprint on his cheek.

He looks between us. “Why do you have a handprint on your face?”

“I slapped him because he slept with one of my friends.” I lie with such ease that I almost believe it myself.

“Oh,” Dutton says, and I’m not sure if he’s taking the bait. “It’s not Ivy, is it?”

“Ew,” Ford and I both say at the same time. And I know she would share the sentiment. “No, a college friend.”

Ford’s clenching his jaw, probably pissed that I’ve lied yet again. But what does he expect me to do in a roomful of knives, which just so happen to be my brothers’ favorite weapon?

“Is Posie with you?” I ask Dutton as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water.

“No, she’s working, and said under no circumstances am I to interrupt her,” he grumbles. I follow behind him when he leaves the kitchen, not wanting to be left in the same room with Ford again because look what just happened even though I told myself it would never happen again.

I have no self-control around him.

I’d become cocky over the last month, thinking I could deny myself what I know he has to offer.

I feel weak.

Careless.

And like this thing between us has taken on a life of its own.

My brother takes a seat, then grabs a slice of cake and takes a bite. He turns and looks at me just as Ford comes through the door.

“Jewel made it,” Eli says, and Dutton raises a brow at me.

“You made this. It’s Mom’s recipe.” Dutton states the obvious. Everyone’s attention turns to me, and I look at Jewel, who is sitting there chewing her lip.

It’s ridiculous how I’ve become addicted to lying lately.

“Nope, I helped. That’s all,” I chirp.

Ford takes the seat opposite me. He’s furious, I can tell. He doesn’t even glance at me as he picks up his phone and ignores the conversation around him. Just as I think how rude he’s being, my phone lights up, and I see that he’s texted me yet again.

I lean into the conversation circulating the room, trying to ignore my phone. It’s distracting every time it lights up. I know it’s him. I can also feel him looking in my direction every time I speak. I’m so hyperaware of everything he does.

“He can know.”

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