Page 54 of A Smile Full of Lies
“Did you?”
No. Not even close. And if the bastard who gutted my family was still out there watching, maybe this circus would rattle him enough to crawl out of whatever hole he was hiding in. Hewouldn’t know it, but I’d be watching and waiting, just in case he made a move.
I gave Ros a quiet smile.
“Does it matter?”
She hesitated.
“Yeah. It does. Because I don’t want to write a book that turns your trauma into clickbait.”
I stepped closer, voice low.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?”
“This is you owning it.Usowning it. Telling the story before anyone else can twist it.”
Her brows pulled tight.
“I never agreed to?—”
“But you will.”
She blinked.
“You sound awfully sure.”
I gave her a slow smile, the kind that made her forget how to breathe.
“Because you’re not scared of my past, Ros.”
I let the silence stretch.
“You’re scared of what it makes you want. You’re scared that writing the book means you’re taking advantage of me and mytrauma, but it’s not taking advantage if I’m giving you the story, welcoming you in, laying it all bare for you. You’re scared that writing this book will make you a bad person, like Nina, but that’s not what this is, and you’ll never be like her, Ros.”
“How can you be so sure I’m not like Nina?”
“You already showed me you’d rather starve than betray me, Ros. That told me everything I need to know.”
She went quiet, the black card trembling between her fingers. Her eyes stayed fixed on the silver lettering, like it might burn her if she looked away.
She turned and faced the kitchen sink, hands braced on the counter, back to me like she needed to hold herself up.
I didn’t make a sound as I closed the space between us. I didn’t have to.
She felt me there. Her shoulders lifted slightly, her head tilted just enough to track my approach.
I moved in behind her, close but not touching. Just enough for her to feel the heat of my body in that inch of space between us. Just enough to make her wonder.
Her breath caught.
“You okay?” I asked, low.
She nodded, but her throat worked like words had abandoned her.
“I meant what I said,” I murmured. “You don’t have to write the book. But if you do… this event will drag it into the light. People won’t be able to look away. It’ll stir up public interest in what happened to my family, at the very least.”
