Page 53 of Cold Hard Truth

Sage turns to Mason. “Home? I don’t fucking know. I didn’t ask.”

“She didn’t even say goodbye.” Mason draws his hand through his hair then glances at me. “Lyla?”

I wave at him, and he looks over at Sage, confused.

“Kane’s daughter.” Sage takes another sip of coffee. “She’s crashing here for a bit.”

Mason starts to smile, but Sage’s lethal glare has him instantly dropping it. A silent threat I’m used to, given my father spent my entire life keeping men away from me.

“Good to know,” Mason says, backing up.

He gives me one final look before turning back down the hallway he just came from.

“So she was with him?” I point to the door, putting the pieces together as I realize Mason’s room must back up to mine. “Why did you let me think that girl was with you?”

“I didn’t. You assumed.”

“You didn’t clarify.”

“Why would it matter?” Sage folds his forearms over the back of his chair. “Just because I didn’t fuck her doesn’t make me a good guy. I’m not the same person you remember.”

“Clearly.” I shake my head and push the cards around on the table once more.

His eyes follow the movement. “You going to draw or just shuffle them forever?”

Fanning the cards once more into an arc, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but something about this space feels all wrong—this city feels all wrong. I can’t find my center, and the universe has its back to me. I tip my head back and let out a frustrated breath.

“Never mind,” I grumble, pushing them together.

Sage’s gaze narrows, and I want to know what he’s thinking. That I’m worshiping the devil? That I’m lost?

Maybe both are true and none of them are. That’s how it feels most days anyway.

“So you still believe in this shit?” Sage asks, watching my hands move over the cards.

“I guess. Why? Prefer crosses?” I mention the tattoo on his back.

“That was for my dad,” Sage says. “I prefer nothing.”

I look up at him and his face is dead serious. Loss and grief battle in his gaze at the mention of his father. It’s fleeting, but there. Something we have in common after what happened the last night we saw each other.

With the morning light breaking through the window, Sage’s face is clear in the glow of the morning. It’s hard to not be caught off guard by how he’s older but familiar in a way that tugs at my heartstrings.

“Everyone believes in something,” I whisper. “Even you.”

“Not anymore.” Sage takes a sip of his coffee.

I don’t know everything that’s happened since I last saw him, but where he used to harbor an ounce of hope is pessimism.

“Let me read your cards then.”

Sage looks down at the spread in front of me and his eyebrows pinch. I think he’s considering it, but then he grips the back of the chair and leans back, smirking.

“Not a chance.”

Planting my hands over them, I lean in, and don’t miss that Sage’s gaze drops to my lips for the briefest second. “How about this, you draw three cards and I’ll leave you alone about it and never ask you again.”

“Or you can just never ask me about it again.” He quirks an eyebrow.

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