Page 128 of The Truths that Deceive

Instead, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

“As soon as we can make sure it’s safe, you can see your brother. Let him know you’re okay. He can be trusted, right?”

She narrows her eyes. “Yes.”

“Good.” I stop, then push out the words dancing on my tongue. “We can be together, because I think you want that, too. What do you say, sweetheart? We can play nasty little sex games, maybe get married.”

She just stares at me, her jaw damn nearly hitting the floor. I know she loves me. She said she does, and she has to know I love her, too.

Because I’ve been fighting it since before I got shot.

I’m going for nonchalance but man, do I suck at it.

“What do you think, Calista?”

Her eyes flash with anger, nostrils flaring.

“Fuck you, Smith.”

Chapter 36

Calista

“You’re fucked up, Smith.”

He looks at me like I’m the crazy one and he points at himself with his good arm. Not that the one where he got shot is bad. I mean, the bullet hit the brachial artery, and he could have bled out, but it was a clean shot, right through, no bone. So I refuse to soften toward him and his weird-ass, pigheaded, stupid hunter ways.

Even hunters should show some level of… softness. Skill. Pretty, comforting words.

And this is a sophisticated man.

But he’s acting like he’s in grade school, like he doesn’t know how to tell the girl he’s crushing on he likes her.

“Me?”

I cross my arms. “You.”

“I got shot for you. How am I wrong here?”

“Most men,” I say, “when they propose, mention love, you asshole.”

“I’m not most men. I’m a dickwad, a jerk, and whatever else you’ve called me since we met.”

A sudden rush of anxiety consumes me. And I take half a step to him. “That was a real proposal, right? I mean, my life’s in fucking shreds right now.”

“No, you don’t have one. You’re dead, remember?”

He closes the gap between us and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I know.”

He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t back it up with the word I want, and pain lances me.

“I guess…” I take a breath. “I guess I misunderstood.”

He goes utterly silent and wipes a finger beneath my eye. I can feel the stupid, wet slide of the tear as he goes.

“No, Calista, you didn’t. And it was real. But I’m not the roses and pretty bouquets kind of guy.”

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