Page 5 of Lies Like Love

Her stepbrother Jude.

She’s mentioned me. And I can’t help but relish in the knowledge that even if Fel is glaring at me ready for battle, her friend is already revealing chinks in her armor.

“Ex-stepbrother,” I correct.

“And why is that?” Fel snaps.

The nervous girl she was as I watched her circle the lobby slips away, and I can’t help but feed on her irritation. She’s pissed I’m standing in front of her, not that I care. I’ve been watching her since she walked through the door becauseyes, I fucking noticed.

She’s Felicity Alcott—impossible to miss. Red hair in a bun that probably took an hour to secure and perfectly painted on makeup.

Her appearance always was deceiving.

But I know her well enough to read the little ticks that give her away. How she plays with her bracelets when she’s nervous, and how she chews the inside of her cheek when she’s biting back what’s really on her mind. How her pretty package is a distraction when really the girl’s got teeth.

I watched her circle the lobby while her friend asked Téa when I’d be done with my appointment. And instead of walking over, I couldn’t help hanging back to see what she’d do. Studying her as she examined every piece of art decorating the walls.

Wondering if she was a figment of my imagination or the past finally catching up with me.

It’s been eleven years since we’ve been face to face, and I’ve kept tabs just enough to make sure of it. So when she walked into my parlor, so far outside her glass castle, it was laughable, I couldn’t help but watch her take it all in. She analyzed every inch like she saw straight through it.

I was tempted to disappear out the back door before she saw me because I’ve stayed out of her life this long, and nothing good comes from her realizing I’m still in LA. But then Crew’s client had the nerve to try and touch her, and my restraint snapped.

“You know why.” I tick my head to the side, challenging her with my gaze. “You really want to go down that rabbit hole again, Red?”

Fel flinches at the nickname she hates, and I can’t help but love the blush it draws up her pretty little neck.

“Seems like you two have some catching up to do.” Her friend takes a step back and looks between us once more. Thefuck meeyes she had when she first spotted me are all but gone. “I’m going to wait outside.”

“I’ll be right out,” Fel says to her friend, but she hasn’t broken our unspoken staring contest.

It isn’t until her friend disappears out the door that Fel’s eyes dip once more, taking in the ink on my arms and hands. The last time I saw her, I looked like a different person—Iwasa different person—so I can only imagine what she’s thinking.

In her mind, she’s probably holding my current self up against the image of the football captain she shared two of the worst years of her life with. Except, he’s someone I haven’t been in a long time. Or maybe, never was.

“You’re back.” Her ocean-blue gaze snaps upward.

“Never left.”

Realization hits those doe eyes, and they go wide, before filling with fury. Every emotion I expect, and then some. But I don’t bother acknowledging it because it won’t get us anywhere. She’s spent the past eleven years hating me. What’s a lifetime more?

“You lost or something?” I tip my chin at the door. “This isn’t your part of town.”

She laughs, but it’s dark and unamused. “Mypart of town? How is it yours?”

Fel still thinks of me as the seventeen-year-old boy whose family bled more money than hers did. Money I never had any interest in touching.

“Guess you don’t know me anymore.”

“Guess not.” She shakes her head, and another strand of red hair falls from her bun. “The Jude I knew wouldn’t have let me think he left town when he’s been here all along.”

She might think she wants the answer to all the questions I have no doubt are swirling around in her pretty little head, but she doesn’t. If she’s looking for comfort, she isn’t going to get it from me. So I keep quiet, watching her face slowly fill with irritation.

“Whatever.” She takes a step to the side.

I should let her walk away now. I should cement myself in place and watch her disappear from my life for the second time.

But if the past eleven years have taught me anything, it’s that my soft spot for Felicity Alcott’s irritating optimism and strawberry scent still have power over me. And the fact that I can’t help but slap my hand on the wall beside her head to stop her, is proof I need to make sure she walks away for good this time.

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