Page 35 of Lies Like Love

Eleven years and she still never figured out the truth. At some point I expected it to get out—braced for it. Years of fingernails scratching at the surface was bound to uncover something. But her family was careful, and whatever secrets I buried, her grandparents threw more dirt on to save the family name.

They let me rot for their sins, and I did the same.

Fel’s family wasn’t the only one in shambles. I was seventeen—no mother worth looking for and my father locked away. No chance of seeing Fel again because she’d eventually want answers to why her mom killed herself.

I had no choice but to accept the fact that losing Fel was the only way she could move on with her life in a way I never would. Blood smeared on my slate meant wiping hers clean.

Phantoms tested now that she’s back, resurrecting them with every conversation. And the more she haunts me the less I remember why I left her in the first place.

My knuckles crack as I slam my fist into the punching bag. Pain is all I want to feel right now, when it’s the only thing strong enough to dull the tight sensation Fel’s presence creates in my chest. And since I have an appointment soon, and there isn’t enough time to cave someone’s face in, a bag is going to have to do.

“You need to get laid,” Crew’s voice comes up behind me, sounding almost amused. “It’s a better way to let out a little tension.”

I punch the bag again and my hand is throbbing. “Is that what the blonde you took home last night was? Stress relief?”

Crew drops into the chair in the office and rakes his dark hair off his forehead. “She was something all right. Sucked dick like a pro.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if she was. Willing to fuck you and all.”

“Funny.” Crew’s smile drops as he plants his tattooed hands on his thighs. “What’s got you in a shit mood this early?”

“Nothing.” I grab the punching bag by both sides to stop it from swaying and drop down into the chair across the desk from him. “Just thinking over some shit.”

“This have something to do with the hot-as-fuck redhead dropping jewelry off at the parlor every five seconds?”

“Her name’s Fel, and don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“Oh shit.” He leans forward and grins. “You really like her?”

“She was my stepsister.”

“I’m aware.” Crew chuckles. “And I’m surprised you think that little moral dilemma would even faze me.”

“I don’t.” Crew’s moral compass is flat-out broken. “But either way, she’s like family. Not interested.”

“Sure.” Crew narrows his eyes, and it pisses me off. “So I guess you won’t mind if I have a go at her then? Test the little redhead’s limits.”

It takes everything in me not to break his face for his comment. But I know Crew, and he’s only saying it to get under my skin. So if that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Good luck trying.” I smirk. Fel wouldn’t go for him anyway. “If that’s the best you can do to take your mind off the fact that Echo is fucking your brother, have at it.”

All amusement falls from Crew’s face and his jaw clenches. “I don’t give a fuck about Echo.”

“Next time say it like you mean it.”

Crew and Echo might act like they hate each other, but she’s the only person who has ever been able to get under Crew’s skin. Which leads me to believe there’s something more going on. To add to it, she started dating his brother a few months ago, in what I can only guess is an attempt to piss Crew off.

It’s working.

It doesn’t matter that his brother is a well-known member of one of LA’s most popular, ultra-conservative churches, so he’s probably not even fucking Echo. Me planting the seed in Crew’s head is enough for his fists to clench like he’s holding back a punch.

“Fuck you, man.” Crew shakes his head and stands up, landing a hit on the punching bag in the office before walking out.

Maybe I should feel bad about what I said, but I don’t. My comment might make me an asshole, but he’s the one who started this shit by dangling Fel in front of me. The guys should know better than to use her to try and piss me off.

I tip my head back and clench my fists. They’re pulsing to the point of being almost numb.

Taking out my aggression on a punching bag wasn’t the smartest thing to do right before I’m scheduled to pierce someone’s eyebrow, but I had to do something—anything—to take my mind off the shit going on in my head.

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