Page 111 of Lies Like Love

For years he let me hate him. Either because he thought I wouldn’t believe him without proof, or because he thought it was better for my sanity if I was kept in the dark. But there’s one thing he never lied about. He was protecting me. From things I couldn’t imagine.

I grieved my mother like she deserved my love when she used me.

I’m fighting my choked breath with every inhale. “You should have told me.”

So I could hate him or forgive him, or at least decide on my own how to process this. Instead, he kept me in the dark, and like some twisted butterfly effect, he changed the course of everything.

“I know that now,” Jude admits, breathing me in, and I can’t help but let him. “But Fel, there’s a reason I’m telling you this…”

An icy chill cools me to the bone as I tip my head back and meet his gaze. Green eyes dark as the forest at night, and I know this gets worse.

“Why?”

“Because…” Jude lets out a sigh that might as well fill the ocean I’m drowning in. “They destroyed the photos and videos back then, so I wouldn’t have any proof against them. There was nothing for the cops to find.”

“But the pictures?”

Jude’s grip on my hips tightens. “Exactly. This afternoon while we were at the bar, someone sent those to me. It’s not over.”

35

Fel

Momrunsherfingersthrough my hair, before splitting it into three to braid it.

“What’s wrong?”

She might think I’ve been blind to the tension that exists in the house lately, but it’s bleeding from the walls.

Mom frowns, and it draws out the wrinkles around her mouth. “You’re too trusting, Felicity.”

“Dad always said—”

“Your father’s dead,” she snaps. “And may he rest in peace.”

Whenever I bring him up, she says that, like it makes up for the fact that she refuses to acknowledge he was ever a part of our lives. She says he died when I was too young to see the full picture, so I still had my illusions intact. That if I knew who he really was I’d have understood it was for the best.

I can’t understand how losing a parent is ever a good thing—no matter what they’ve done or what kind of bad runs in their blood. I’m half each person, and whether he and I are dissimilar or not, there’s half of myself I’ll never fully understand because he’s gone.

“This was a bad idea.” She unravels the braid and starts over.

“I can just wear it down if that’s easier.” I don’t care what I look like at these events anyway. It’s always her making me up when I’d rather sit in bed and read.

She shakes her head. “Steve wants it braided.”

I have to bite my tongue because I’m not sure why that matters, or why her husband cares so much about how I wear my hair, but I know better than to comment.

“Where’s Jude?” If I were smart, I’d swallow that question as well, but he disappeared after another blowout last night, and it’s killing me not knowing where he is.

Usually, he’ll at least respond to my texts, but all I’m getting is radio silence.

“He’s probably blowing off steam or getting into trouble. He’s a delinquent.” She grits her teeth. Her anger an undercurrent in her tone.

I’m not sure why she’s always calling him a delinquent. He’s the football captain, he’s on the honor roll, girls flock to him. He might be a bit of an asshole with a major ego, but he doesn’t get into actual trouble.

“Will he be at the party?”

Mom tugs my hair as she braids it, her grip more forceful as she pulls two pieces over each other. “Hopefully not.”

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