Page 57 of Cold Hard Truth

“We know that.” Crew shakes his head like my answer is ridiculous.

“Is she the reason you’re such a man-slut, Sage?”

“I am not a man-slut.” Or, at least, I refuse to admit it when it doesn’t mean anything.

Echo rolls her eyes.

“You’re making something out of nothing.” I stand up. “She’s just some girl I used to know.”

“Mm-hmm. Good song. But even better lies you’re telling yourself.”

Echo whispers something to Crew, but I’m already halfway out the door. I don’t need this shit, and I don’t need them getting any ideas in their heads.

If Lyla and I were going to be anything, that was ruined along with anything else when she walked away.

There’s a reason I don’t do relationships. They’re bullshit. I opened my chest up once and Lyla took a butcher knife to it.

Walking up front, I swear I can smell her before I even enter the lobby. And when I turn the corner, I know why because she’s burning incense and making herself at home. Lyla’s sitting on the stool behind the front counter flipping through her tarot cards, talking with Fel, who’s stocking one of the cases with new body jewelry.

“You remember Jude from when he was eighteen?” Fel asks her.

“In general, yes. We weren’t friends, but we coexisted.” Lyla shuffles her cards. “I remember when he started working at the shop, but I didn’t see him much since he was busy learning how to pierce at the time.”

Fel focuses on her jewelry, listening to Lyla tell her about when Jude first came to Twisted Roses. She’s smiling, but it’s a little sad, and I imagine it’s because he came here shortly after he walked away from her all those years ago.

Fel laughs at something Lyla said, pulling her long red hair off her face. But I might have lost my hearing because the moment Lyla looks up at me standing in the doorway, everything goes silent.

She absorbs sound, drains the universe. She empties me. And there she sits, looking at me like she doesn’t understand the man I am when she’s the one who made me like this.

Lyla leans back, not taking her eyes off me. She’s trouble, and I’m a step away from being knee-deep in it.

Her fingers graze over the black leather choker that wraps her throat as she watches, toying with it like she can sense what it makes me picture in my head.

The choker was the best I could think of last minute to ensure she wouldn’t slip away again. But watching her fingers glide back and forth over the black band, I know I should have taken the time to figure out how to inject her instead.

She traces the path, hypnotizing me with how it matches her midnight hair but stands out against her pale skin. I’m tempted to never let her take it off.

“Something wrong, Sage?” Her eyebrows crinkle in forced concern, even if the start of a smile in the corner of her mouth tells me she’s reading what’s written all over my face.

Lyla is a lot of things—mischievous, unexpected, tempting as fuck—but she’s not sweet. And she’s not concerned about me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, ignoring her question.

She glances around. “Working.”

“I’m talking about the incense. You can’t burn that shit in here.”

“Why not?”

Because it’s fucking haunting me.

“Because it’s a sterile environment and that shit isn’t.”

Lyla frowns. “You’re joking.”

I cross my arms over my chest, not taking my eyes off her until she rolls her eyes and puts it out. Who knows, maybe I’m right. After all, that shit fills the room—the halls. It can’t be good for one reason or another. If not for the tats, then for my sanity.

“So…” Fel cuts into the silence when Lyla and I are glaring at each other like we’re teenagers again because that’s what she reduces me to. “I think I’ll go say bye to Jude before I take off.”

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